


No Letting Go, No Holding Back

by ifwallscouldspeak



Category: SKAM Austin
Genre: (This fic is mostly happy I swear), Angst with a Happy Ending, Chronic Illness, Coming Out, F/F, Falling In Love, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Mental Health Issues, Racism, Season Three AU, Skam Season 3, Suicidal Thoughts, transphobic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2020-10-01 21:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 117,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20405092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifwallscouldspeak/pseuds/ifwallscouldspeak
Summary: "Just trust me," she says. "It's not that far to the bottom."Shay takes a deep breath. "Okay."And just like that, she knows that it will be okay. She reaches for her hand, brown fingers tangling together. Then, as if they're one person, they leap.(A Shay season 3 fic).





	1. How To Set Up A Trust Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> So I've been thinking about what I would want from a Shay season for a long time, and I think this has pretty much incorporated everything I want and know that I will probably never get from the actual show, lol. So that being said, all the "original characters" are figures like American!Even, American!Eskild, etc. I hope you enjoy this like I enjoyed outlining and writing it - I probably won't be responding to comments until the whole thing is over but please let me know what you think as you read!
> 
> Follow [this link](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4XWEfhgjaeWfyFsaLCuZwi) for the Spotify playlist for this fic! It'll be updated everytime a new chapter is released. 
> 
> The usual disclaimer about not owning anything and all errors being mine and mine alone. Title is from Wayne Wonder's "No Letting Go."
> 
> +++

**Sunday, September 15, 1:05 AM**

_ Blowin' everywhere we goin' _

_ And now ya knowin' _

_ When I step right up _

_ Get my lighter so I can light up _

_ That's how it should be done _

_ Soon as you thinkin' you're down _

_ Find how to turn things around _

_ Now things are looking up _

Tyler interrupts Marlon’s monologue on the non-profit industrial complex by snatching the joint out of his hand. 

“Smoke up or pass it,” Tyler says before bringing the joint up to his lips. “You’re letting it burn out.”

Marlon rolls his eyes, leaning back onto the porch railing. “I have more, don’t worry.”

Shay raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t this the shit that you’re supposed to be selling?”

Marlon says, “It's fine. Most of the rich kids at our school don’t know what they should be paying for an ounce anyway, and I get to overcharge them.” 

They’re at a party at Grace Olsen’s house, tucked onto the porch by themselves. From the moment they drove up to the house, the music had been blaring and drunk people had been spilling out all over the front and back yards. She’s not exactly sure why they’re here, because it’s not as if they’ve been directly invited. Marlon had been really shady about whether or not Megan had extended the invite or if he had just seen her Insta stories. She’s not sure what’s up with them recently, cause they spent most of June hooking up, and then just kinda stopped. Every time she’s brought it up though, he’s changed the topic. She doesn’t buy his earlier “we need to go cause this is a great chance to push our music and for me to sell some pot” excuse. 

“There’s no rich kids here, though,” Tyler points out. “It’s mostly a bunch of hipsters.”

Tyler’s right; Shay recognizes Grace’s cousin, Eve, dancing in the middle of a circle with a bunch of her college friends. Most of them look like they’ve missed a couple of showers, and there’s way too many pairs of Birkenstocks on the grass. Shay’s eye moves down towards the edge of the lawn, where Nik is talking to a dark-skinned woman with cornrows and wearing a Rockets jersey. Shay reaches up self-consciously to her own new haircut, the shortest she’s ever worn it outside. Her mom had almost had a conniption over it. Nik looks over at her and waves, and Shay weakly waves back. It’s still so awkward between them. Understandably. 

“There’s Daniel and his friends,” Marlon says. 

“Most of them don’t smoke pot cause of piss testing though,” Tyler says. “If they wanna get high they just do whippets or something.” 

"I'll sell some no problem," Marlon says. "But here, Shay can you roll a new one when this is done?"

He reaches into his pocket, passing the baggie and some rolling papers over to Shay. As she reaches for them, the backdoor bursts open, almost clipping Shay in the shoulder. She glares at Kelsey Russell, Jo Valencia, and Megan trip out of the house, laughing and gleaming with sweat. Shay had seen them briefly when she first came in, tearing it up on the makeshift dance-floor with a bunch of the Kittens. Shay watches as Megan lifts her hair up to tie it into a bun, catching sight of a freshly done undercut. It fits her well, even as it makes Shay’s heart pang belatedly. She sighs, putting the weed and the papers into the small pocket on the front of her shirt. Her fucking jeans are one of those pairs that look like they have pockets, but everything is all stitched closed. The last time she tried to cut a pocket like that open, there was nothing underneath it.

“Hey guys!” Kelsey says cheerfully, grinning at them.

Marlon makes a non-committal noise and Tyler nods his head before tilting it up, releasing the smoke from his mouth. He reaches towards Shay to pass her the joint, but a brown hand with long, green fingernails intercepts it.

“Do you mind?” Jo asks, fluttering her eyes prettily at Tyler.

At this point, Shay knows that she has to know that Tyler is gay. She wonders if Jo is just doing it to purposely annoy him. She takes a puff before anyone can respond, as Kelsey wiggles herself between Marlon and Shay. Megan rocks back on her heels and stands almost impossibly close to Jo, shooting Shay a small smile. Shay pauses for a moment before smiling back at her. 

“Go right ahead,” Tyler says wryly. 

Kelsey seems to take that as an invitation to talk a mile a minute. “Can you guys believe we’re seniors? It’s totally crazy, right? There’s so many things to do, like one of my schools requires three recommendation letters and an in-person interview which is just so much, you know? And I really need to make sure that I stay on top of it,and oh my God, especially making sure not to get senioritis, you know, because I heard that three years ago someone who had straight As got one D and they were supposed to go to Columbia, like, New York City, but then their acceptance letter got revoked -”

“I gotta piss,” Marlon says suddenly. “Tyler?”

“Yah,” Tyler says too quickly. “Yah. Me too.”

Before Shay can glare at them for abandoning her to the wolves, they run back into the house, practically shoving each other to be the first one inside. Shay’s mouth draws tightly into a line. Jo passes the joint to her, and there’s barely anything left of it. Shay sighs and take it anyway, her fingers pressing against her lips and she tries to suck in some of it. 

“At least your mom’s not totally on your ass,” Megan says, her voice sounding almost cheerful despite what she’s saying. “Mine said I’m gonna be grounded until I leave for college if I don’t get my shit together.”

“Yeah, right?” Kelsey sounds a little strained, but Shay doesn’t know her enough to comment on it. “But I think the only reason why she’s not is cause of the church thing.”

Shay can’t help herself. “Church thing?”

Jo rolls her eyes. “Kelsey started going to a new church.”

“Okay…?”

Kelsey says, “I just didn’t like the old pastor. He was so creepy. This new one is much better. You guys are totally invited to come!”

Shay watches as Jo and Megan share a look, but Kelsey flushes before anyone can say anything. Shay drops the roach onto the ground, grinding it down with the heel of her toe. 

“Not in like, a weird, converting you kind of way, just like, in a chill way. There’s pot lucks and stuff,” she says. “Oh! Actually, Nik goes there too! Shay, you guys used to date, right?”

Shay doesn’t look at anyone when she says, “Uhm, yeah.”

“He’s really nice,” Kelsey says. “And he has the best taste in musicals!”

“Uhm.”

“Why did you guys break up?” Kelsey asks. “Or is that too personal?”

“It’s probably too personal,” Megan jumps in before Shay can say anything.

They awkwardly make eye contact, and Megan looks away first. 

“Yeah, Kelsey Bear, how would you like it if people just started asking you why you and Daniel broke up?” Jo smirks.

Kelsey flaps her hand. “Jo!”

“Technically they never dated,” Megan jumps in, clearly trying to hide a grin.

“You guys are the worse,” Kelsey says, a smile spreading onto her face.

Shay’s jaw tightens as she watches the three of them continue to tease each other, eyes catching on the easy way Jo flings her arm over Kelsey’s shoulder or how Kelsey gently kicks at Megan’s calf. It’s the easy kind of intimacy that she’s never felt quite comfortable with, when it came to other girls. The last time she had felt anything like that had been with Megan, but that was all over now, of course. And it’s… it’s fine, most of the time. She has Marlon and Tyler. It’s not like she’s starved for hugs or fist bumps or anything like that. She forces her body to relax, absently nodding along to whatever Kelsey is saying to her.

“Oh that’s so great! Who?” Kelsey’s large grin looms closer. 

“Who?”

“Come on, that’s not too personal, is it? Oh, it must be Max. Oh! Or Benjamin? No, Antonio?” Kelsey squeals. “Oh! They’re looking over here, they must be checking you out!”

Shay catches a glimpse of Megan’s mortified face before she follows Kelsey’s line of sight to a bunch of football guys staring in their direction. Shay thinks she recognizes one from her Chemistry class last year, but it’s also possibly not that guy who almost lit his eyebrows on fire. She’s still not quite sure what Kelsey is talking about, when Jo winks at her.

“You know, those kinds of guys are always really good with their hands,” she says. “If you catch my drift.”

“Okay -” Megan starts to cut in.

_ Woop-woop! That's the sound of da police! That's the sound of the beast! _

_ Check out the message in a rough stylee _

_ The real criminals are the see-O-P _

_ You check for undercover and the one PD _

_ But just a mere Black man, them want check me _

“Oh shit,” Jo says as sirens blare halfway down the block.

Eve starts yelling for everyone to clear out, and then there’s a mad dash out of the backyard. A blur of bodies push past her, and for a moment she feels Megan’s hand curl around hers and tug; they catch each others’ eyes and Megan starts towards the house. Shay tries to trip after her, but they’re separated. One of the football guys pushes through them, muttering about not being caught out after curfew. 

Shay falls to the porch floor and Megan is swept into the house. Shay curses as she spots Marlon’s weed on the wood beneath her, and quickly snatches up the baggie again. The sirens are blaring in her ears, and she knows they must be in front of the house now. Without thinking about it too deeply, Shay drops the weed and the papers into a pair of yellow rainboots sitting right by the back door. She'll figure out what to do about that shit later, when there aren't police crawling around everywhere.

She runs and leaps off the porch, thinking that she can go around the house. But as soon as she turns the corner, she catches a police officer coming around the back. She curses, running straight for the bushes, thinking she can probably hide in there until the cops leave. 

“Over here!”

Someone tugs at Shay and pushes her towards the fence leading to the next door neighbor’s yard. It’s a chainlink thing, not very tall; maybe four feet high. Shay looks up to see the person with the cornrows grinning at her, before she climbs up and tosses one leg over the fence. Shay thinks she hears someone yelling “stop,” and curses. She follows her new savior up and over the fence, chasing after her as they run through the neighbor's yard and over another fence. 

It’s almost like a game of tag, except Shay’s the one trying to get out. The woman leads her in a maze of backyards, through bushes, over fences, and across cobblestones until they hit the street, a few blocks away from Grace’s house. They’re the only ones in the road, the streetlights illuminating them in warm yellow. Shay breathes hard, hands gripping her knees tightly. The woman standing next to her reaches up to wipe her forehead; she has hairy armpits. She catches Shay staring and smiles.

“I’m Diana,” she says. “Diana Tran.” 

“Shay Dixon,” Shay says.

“You’re a friend of Grace’s, right?” Diana asks, but doesn’t leave room for Shay to answer. “I go to school with Eve. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Shay says.

“Well, that was an adventure,” Diana says. “Pretty sure my roommate ditched me. Ugh.”

Shay winces. “Yeah, I came here with my friends, but…”

Diana frowns. “Yeah. Do you need me to call you an Uber home?”

Shay blinks. “Uhm -”

“I’m going to call one for myself,” Diana says. “And my conscious absolutely won’t let me leave a gayby out here on her own.”

Shay’s mouth drops, and for a moment she wonders if she’s just misheard what Diana’s said. When she feels secure enough to speak though, the only thing she hears is the blare of a car horn. 

“Shay!”

It’s Tyler, half-hanging out of the driver’s side of Marlon’s truck. Marlon honks the horn again and the car rolls to a stop right next to her and Diana. 

“I gotta -” Shay gestures awkwardly, before practically dislocating her arm yanking open the door to the backseat. 

Once she’s inside, she firmly does not look back out.

+++

**Sunday, September 15, 9:20 AM **

_ In the corners of mind _

_ I just can't seem to find a reason to believe _

_ That I can break free _

_ Cause you see I have been down for so long _

_ Feel like the hope is gone _

_ But as I lift my hands, I understand _

_ That I should praise you through my circumstance _

If the gospel music hadn’t woken Shay up, her mother’s loud voice as she slams the door open sure would’ve done it. 

“Shayla Krystal Dixon, are you gonna sleep away your entire Sunday again?” 

Shay groans, her mouth feeling like cotton and her eyes crusted over. She forces herself to sit up, trying to scratch her her scalp through her silk scarf. She knows her mom is shaking her head at her before she even brings her eyes to her mother’s face.

Her mom stands right at the entrance of her room, all dressed up to go to church. She’s silent for a moment, distastefully eyeing the mess that’s been accumulating over the past few months. It’s not that anything is dirty, exactly, besides a couple of glasses on her night stand. It’s just not organized and definitely not neat. 

“As much time as you spend watching that Netflix you can’t watch The Marie Kondo Show?” Her mother asks.

“That’s not what it’s called,” Shay mutters.

“‘The lazy man will not plow because of winter; he will beg during harvest and have nothing,’” her mom says. “Proverbs.”

“Okay,” Shay says. “I’ll clean.”

“Mmhmm,” her mother sighs. “And I’m assuming that means you won’t be going to church with me.”

Shay turns her face away, saying nothing. She can feel her mother’s gaze on her cheek, her tired eyes scanning over her face. A few minutes of silence stretches between them, feeling like miles. Her mother sighs, but then eventually turns to leave the doorway.

“I’ll be home later,” her mother says. “Please take chicken out for dinner.”

Shay nods, and her mother hesitates for another moment.

"And please text your father. He misses you when he's out on the road, but sometimes it just slips his mind to call."

"Sure."

"Maybe you'll talk to him, even if you won't talk to me," her mother mutters, before closing the door behind her. 

Shay waits to hear her footsteps disappearing down the hall before she plops back down, eyes aching from staying open too long. She’s got to stop passing out after smoking without gulping down water. Her phone beeps pitifully at her. Shay grabs at it, almost knocking it off the nightstand in the process. It’s Marlon, asking Shay for his weed back, cause he really needs to sell some this week.

She groans, flinging her phone onto a pile of laundry on the floor. 

+++

**Monday, September 16, 12:40 PM**

Shay drops down into her seat, her tray of mostly unidentifiable food wiggling in front of her. The menu outside the cafeteria had boasted about spaghetti and meatballs, but she’s not too sure. She’s at her usual table with Tyler and Marlon, though she’s a bit distracted. She’s managed to fend off Marlon’s questions about the weed so far, simply by pretending she left it at home by accident. But now, she just needs to find a way to get Grace by herself and somehow manage to go to her house and get the weed back. 

Fuck.

“ - think she might actually be our first groupie,” Marlon is saying.

“Don’t be gross,” Shay says.

Tyler shrugs. “Could be good for our brand.”

Shay rolls her eyes at him. “And when did you even meet her? After y’all abandoned me to Megan and her dance team?”

“Purely self defense,” Marlon says. “It was my fight or flight reaction.”

“Bullshit,” Shay says, throwing what she thinks is supposed to be a bread roll at his head. 

“Anyway, but she was kinda cute, we chilled a bit,” Marlon says. “I think we might hang out this weekend.”

“What did you say her name was again?” Shay asks.

“Amanda Jones?”

Tyler frowns. “I don’t think I know her. She’s a junior?”

Marlon doesn’t say anything for a minute. The pause is too long to be anything but completely sus, in Shay’s mind.

“Sophomore?” she asks slowly.

Marlon mumbles, “freshman.”

“Oh, gross!” Shay snaps, wishing she had more than just a hard roll to throw at him. 

“What? She’s fifteen!” he says defensively.

“She’s a child,” Tyler tosses back.

“It’s not any different than whatever you have going on with that college guy,” Marlon says.

“Not the litmus test for what’s creepy or not,” Shay says, curling her lip up.

She almost regrets saying it when she sees the dark look passing over Tyler’s face, but it’s not as though he doesn’t know how she feels, anyway. It's a sore topic for them. Shay thinks Tyler deserves better than whatever these dudes are offering, and Tyler thinks Shay should mind her own business. 

“Moral implications aside,” Tyler says finally, “do we really want a bunch of fifteen year olds at our gigs? Aren’t we trying to progress and grow?”

“I don’t know why you have to be ageist about it,” Marlon starts. “Age shouldn’t determine -”

“Hey guys!”

Shay is almost thankful for the interruption, until she glances up to see Kelsey staring at her with a wide, almost manic smile on her face. She has a clipboard pressed against her chest, her Kittens jacket slightly askew. Zoya Ali stands next to her with a fake smile pasted on her face, as if she’d literally rather be anywhere but at this cafeteria table.

“Hi?” Tyler says.

Kelsey starts, “As you may know -”

“We don’t,” Shay smirks.

“ - I’m head of the Homecoming organization committee this year, and we need a few more volunteers to help with set-up and clean-up,” Kelsey goes on, undeterred. “And I was wondering if you guys wanted to put your names down!”

A long, awkward silence stretches. Shay glances at Marlon and Tyler before looking back at the girls. Kelesey’s smile doesn't waver on her face, while Zoya looks slightly menacing. Shay can’t tell if this is supposed to be some kind of joke or not.

“There are a lot of pros to signing up,” Kelsey begins again. “It’s a great way to meet some new friends, it builds character, and you can list it on your college applications as an extracurricular. Which, you know, we all know is super important since most applications are due in December! Earlier if you’re doing early decision. And well, even I’m worried about not having enough down, even though I’m in the GSA, on the Kittens, on the yearbook committee, am a student representative…”

She trails off, raising her eyebrows a little bit, as if to accentuate how Shay, Marlon and Tyler don’t have anything like that to put down on their applications. Shay wonders briefly is this is all a ploy set up by their college counselor. Is Kelsey secretly on the school payroll?

“It also counts towards extra credit in P.E.,” Zoya says. “And aren’t the three of you borderline failing?”

“It’s only the first quarter,” Marlon shoots back. “Also, credit in gym? Isn’t that so rich. You get rewarded for upholding this patriarchal system of toxic masculinity by -”

“Are you for real?” Zoya grimaces. “Who do you think you are anyway, the ghost of Patsy Mink?” 

Marlon blinks. “Who?”

“Anyway,” Kelsey rushes in, “what do you guys think?”

“I think pass,” Tyler says dismissively.

“Oh,” Kelsey says. “Oh. I understand, but you know, you really should be thinking about your futures. You’re seniors so…”

“So not doing clean-up for a stupid dance isn’t gonna make or break our futures,” Shay says.

“Maybe not. Or maybe,” Kelsey leans in slightly, causing a strangely creepy shadowed affect on her face, “Or maybe that will be the difference between your application and someone else’s.”

She straightens up and throws them one last smile before turning to leave. Zoya raises a judgemental eyebrow and follows her across the cafeteria. It’s only when they’re about to reach the doorway that Shay realizes she should’ve asked them about Grace. Fuck.

“I uh, gotta pee,” Shay says, quickly gathering her stuff so she can follow them out.

Marlon nods at her and then says, “God, I can’t believe Megan actively hangs out with those girls.”

“She’s not much better,” Tyler says. “Actually - she might be worse.”

Shay rolls her eyes and tries not to sprint across the cafeteria, tossing her tray of uneaten food into the trash before she makes it into the hallway. She glances around for a moment, before catching sight of Kelsey and Zoya near a couple of lockers. She groans, before pasting a smile on her face and walking up to them.

“ - only have three extra names,” Kelseys says.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get more,” Zoya reassures her.

“Doubtful,” Shay mutters under her breath, before raising her voice. “Uh, hey.”

Kelsey turns to her, eyes bright. “Shay! Did you -”

Shay cuts her off. “Uhm, I was just wondering if Grace is in school today?”

Kelsey frowns. “Grace? No, she had to take the day off to help clean the house. Her aunt is coming back in town for a few days and -”

“Oh,” Shay says. “Right. Uhm.”

Zoya says, “Why do you ask?”

Shay bites back a curse. “I, uh, left my sweater at her house.”

“Oh,” Kelsey shrugs. “She should be back like, tomorrow, so I’m sure she can bring it then. I can actually just text her now to ask her to -“

“No!” Shay says too quickly. “Uhm, no. That’s ok. I’ll just - I can try to drop by hers.”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all,” Kelsey says. “You shouldn’t have to go all the way out there -”

“It’s no problem at all,” Shays says, trying not to grit her teeth.

“Is there a problem with Grace just bringing it to you in school?” Zoya tilts her head. “It’s just a sweater. Right?” 

“Right,” Shay says, trying to smile. “Right. Just a plain, black sweater.”

“Okay, so I’ll just ask her to look out for it,” Kelsey says, eyes going back and forth between Shay and Zoya, trying to figure out what’s going on between them. And to be honest, Shay isn’t sure either. All she knows is Zoya is staring at her like she’s kicked a puppy and she’s waiting to get her revenge or something.

“Zoya!”

Zoya and Kelsey turn towards the sound of the voice. Shay glances down the hall to see a Black girl with an African print wrapped around her head coming down the hall. Shay catches only a glimpse of a wide smile and dark, glittering eyes before she turns away, her mind elsewhere.

How the fuck is she supposed to get the weed now?

+++

**Tuesday, September 17, 9:35 AM**

_ New Message from**: Grace Olsen** _

Hey Shay, this is Grace

I'm sorry, I looked everywhere for your sweater and can't find it

You sure you left it here?

Positive

I'll check again later.

I can just come over tonight to look for it.

Is 7pm ok?

Sorry :( 

Normally it's no problem but my aunt is taking my cousin and I to some retreat for a few days

This weekend maybe? 

I can text you when we get back

+++

**Wednesday, September 18, 9:25 AM **

_ I live my life in a magazine _

_ I live my life on a TV screen _

_ I live my life on birth control _

_ I lost my mind to rock and roll _

Shay mindlessly stares at Rosie the Riveter as Mr. Andserson, the A.P. Gov teacher, drones on about group projects and the weekly essay assignment. Her head is propped up on one hand, eyes fluttering open and closed. The bright yellow, blue, and red of the poster begins to blur, so she decides to just close her eyes completely. It’s nice and warm in the classroom, and there’s nothing really to stop her -

_ Let's get screwed _

_ I don't care _

_ You fucked the world up now, we'll fuck it all back down _

Textbooks bang onto the table, jolting her physically. Shay blearily looks up to see Zoya staring down at her, that one lone eyebrow raised. 

“We’ll sit together today,” she says in a bored voice.

“We will?”

“Kelsey is off doing yearbook errands and you’re the third smartest person in this section,” Zoya says. “So yeah.”

“Third?” Shay doesn’t know if she’s offended at the implication that she’s behind Kelsey.

Zoya moves to sit next to her, dragging the chair across the floor as she does. The noise makes Shay wince, and she looks over to glare at Zoya. The expression slowly fades from her face as she watches Zoya sit down and very slowly place one leg over the other. Zoya stares back at her, tilting her head smugly, and gently resting her hand on the calf of one bright yellow rainboot.

“This weather is so volatile these days,” Zoya says mildly.

Disbelief boils up in Shay. “Are you fucking with me right now?”

“Is it anything less than you deserve?”

“You -” Shay takes a deep breath and lowers her voice. “You know.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You know I didn’t leave a goddamn sweater in Grace’s house and you -”

“Let you suffer for it?” Zoya glares. “At least it was less time than six months Grace would’ve spent in jail for possession!”

“Oh, come on!” Shay rolls her eyes. “As if Grace Olsen, of all people, would’ve gotten in trouble with the cops for a little weed -”

“Oh, so that’s a good excuse, that she wouldn’t have been that fucked over, so it’s okay?” Zoya voice drips with disgust. “I don’t know what your issue is with her, but it’s a shitty thing to do to anyone.”

“Look -” 

“No, you look,” Zoya hisses. “Not that it matters, but the boots aren’t hers, anyway. Imagine my surprise when I shoved them on and found a dime bag stuck between my toes!”

“I’d be more than happy to take it off your hands, then,” Shay says through her teeth.

To Shay’s utter surprise, Zoya actually laughs. It’s loud enough for the people at the tables closest to them to turn around, but bitter enough to stop them from staring too long. My. Anderson pauses in his lecture for a moment, but decides to keep going on anyway. Shay scoots in a little closer to Zoya, trying to keep her voice low.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? But can I please just have it back?” Shay tries to sound contrite and not just desperate. “It’s not mine, ok? It’s Marlon’s.”

“So maybe I should just give it back to him.”

“What? Fuc -” Shay takes a deep breath. “Zoya, come on. This isn’t funny.”

“No, it’s not,” Zoya says. “And I also don’t want to be carrying this shit around. So you can have it back.”

Shay feels the tension slowly drain from her shoulders. “Fuck. Okay, and you know, I really am sor -”

“If,” Zoya says, suddenly looking smug, “You and your friends agree to help at the homecoming dance.”

“What!” Shay practically screeches, completely overwhelmed by this turn of events. 

“Mandatory meeting on Friday,” Zoya continues without pause, “at Jo Valencia’s house.”

“No,” Shay shakes her head rapidly. “No way -”

“I guess Marlon doesn’t really need his drugs back, then,” Zoya shrugs.

Shay wants to throw her textbook at Zoya. “Fine!”

Zoya raises an eyebrow, saying nothing.

“Fine,” Shay says. “Fine, I’ll come to the meeting and sign up for this stupid thing.”

“Not just you,” Zoya reminds her. “Tyler and Marlon too. All hands on deck!”

“Fuck, okay,” Shay grits her teeth. “Whatever.”

“What a great way to get into the spirit of things,” Zoya smiles suddenly. “The school spirit of things.”

Shay’s hands slide down her textbook, because, fuck it, she is about to lob the thing right into Zoya’s face, when Mr. Anderson stops right in front of their desk. His crotch is right on level with Shay’s line of sight, and she has to look up quickly to avoid staring at the distinct bulge. She thinks that for a teacher, he really should be wearing baggier khakis. Ew.

He frowns at the two of them, tossing a bunch of packets onto the table. 

“Here’s the packet for today. And since you two seem incapable of shutting up,” he says, “you can be partners for the rest of the semester.” 

“What?” Zoya and Shay screech at the same time. 

“No,” Zoya shakes her head. “No way. I’m partners with Kelsey.”

“She can join you,” he says. “We have odd numbers in the class anyway.”

Zoya cuts her eyes at Shay. “But -”

“This isn’t the Middle East, and I’m not forcing you to be in a harem, Ms. Ali, it’s a school assignment. You’ll be fine with two partners.”

Shay’s jaw drops open and she snaps her neck to look at Zoya, waiting for her reaction. Zoya clenches her jaw for a moment and then looks down at the table, grabbing one of the packets. Mr. Anderson stands there for a few more moments, before moving on to the next table. Shay waits for Zoya to say something, anything; but her face is completely blank as she scans over the document in front of her. 

+++

**Thursday, September 19, 9:35 AM **

_ New message from: **Mar** _

You sure aliens didn't take over your body

Kelsey is a lot but honestly don't you think she was right about SOME shit

Not really

-_-

Who cares about gym credits anyway

Or pretending to be something you're not for some elitist college

Your mom

And you promised me

So don't be a dickward.

+++

**Friday, September 20, 4:15 PM **

_ Risk being uncomfortable to become unstoppable _

_ I'm just different (I'm just) I'm just different _

_ I risk all of my fake friends just to go handle my business _

_ Yeah I'm just different _

Shay decides that the only course of action is to kill Marlon and Tyler. 

It might be bad for the band, she supposes, but musicians go solo all the time. Plus, if they were dead, no one would blame her for “breaking up the band,” in the VH1 special about her life where some journalist mistakes her for a straight girl. 

The gym is more crowded than she would’ve thought. There’s a slew of Kittens and football players, but also just a couple of seniors and juniors she recognizes from her classes. Kelsey, Jo, Grace, Megan, and Zoya are up front, all laughing and talking to each other. Shay is slouching on one of the bleachers, fiddling with her phone, trying to convince herself that her bros are just late and aren’t ditching her altogether. When she looks up, she catches Zoya staring at her. The look she throws back is more of a grimace than a smile, but it’s the best she can do at the moment. Fuck. 

Kelsey claps her hands together. “Okay! I think we should all be ready to get started. As you know, I’m Kelsey, and I’m leading the Homecoming planning committee this year. Thank you all for volunteering!”

Someone who Shay thinks was in her math class freshman year says, “We’re definitely getting extra credit for this, right?”

Kelsey points to him. “Yes, definitely. I talked to Coach Winston, and she’s agreed to drop your two lowest grades at the end of the semester. You just need to come to two more mandatory meetings and of course, do your assigned task at the dance.”

“How will that be recorded?”

“Zoya and Grace will be taking attendance and monitoring the dance!” Kelsey smiles.

A few groans run through the crowd. Shay knows what it means; that everyone is actually going to have to show up and do work if they really want the credit for P.E. Grace smiles serenely while Zoya openly smirks. They make eye contact again, and Zoya raises an eyebrow before pointedly looking at the empty space besides Shay. Shay shrugs back, trying to indicate that she’s not responsible for her friends not showing up. Zoya purses her lips, and pulls out her phone.

“ - super important to make sure we do a good job cleaning up in particular, because, you know, we promised Vice-Principal Lee that facilities would not have to come in after us, which we need to really ensure cause their union contract is up and apparently they can like, use this for leverage to -”

“Kelsey,” Jo says warmly.

“Oh, right. So, anyway, since we’re going to be working together pretty closely for the next few weeks, I propose that we -”

Shay’s phone buzzes, and she glances down at her screen.

_ I told you all three of you need to show up if you want the weed. _

Shay scowls.

_ Idk where they are. Let me go call them._

She slides down the bench as Kelsey talks about forming a trust circle or some shit, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. She can practically feel Zoya’s gaze burning into her. Once she gets to the end of the bleacher she stands up and takes quick, long steps towards the gym entrance. 

She breathes a sigh of relief as soon as she’s outside, pausing right outside the doors. It’s short-lived, however; she practically jabs her phone to FaceTime Tyler, raising it up to her face as it starts ringing. Still hearing Kelsey’s loud voice, she starts to walk down the hall, waiting for him to pick up his goddamn phone. Turning around the corner, she grits her teeth and -

“Oof!” 

Shay stumbles backwards, having just bodily walked into someone. Her grip is tight enough on her phone that it doesn’t fall, but she has to shake her head a bit before looking back up. The quick apology she’s about to spout dies on her lips and she sees the person in front of her. 

She’s absolutely beautiful and just slightly recognizable as she smiles at Shay. She’s just a bit taller, with dark skin and a friendly grin that has Shay smiling back almost immediately. Her septum is pierced and her hair is wrapped up in blue and pink wax print; that’s when Shay recognizes her. The girl from the hallway a few days ago, the one who knows Zoya. 

The girl smiles sheepishly. “Sorry for that. I promise I don’t usually go careening into complete strangers.”

“It’s fine,” Shay says, holding up her phone. “It was me. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Ah,” she says. “Texting and walking. A very serious offense.”

“FaceTime and walking, actually,” Shay says.

“An even more serious offense.” The girl laughs and starts to move around Shay. “Probably have to do some community service for that.”

“I already am,” Shay winces. 

The girl pauses for a moment, then looks between Shay and the gym doors. “You’re here for that homecoming dance thing?”

Shay says, “unfortunately.”

The girl blinks at her in surprise for a moment, and Shay realizes that she might have offended her. Maybe she actually wants to be part of this thing, if she’s friend’s with Zoya?

To Shay’s surprise, the girl starts laughing. “Ugh. Same.”

“They’re doing trust falls or something now,” Shay tells her.

She groans. “Ugh. Fuck.”

“You don’t have to go in there.”

“I kinda do,” she says. “I… maybe owe someone something.”

“Oh,” Shay smiles. “Blackmail. A very serious offense.”

“Something like that.” The girl beams, then pauses. “So it looks like we’re stuck.”

“Yeah.”

“But…”

“But?”

“Maybe we could… rouse up some enthusiasm for the circle of trust?”

She’s smiling coyly at Shay, something that feels way too intimate for a first meeting. Shay’s heart begins to beat faster, licking her lips before speaking. Her voice comes out hoarser than she intends, and she has to fake a little cough to clear out her throat. 

“I’m not sure anything could make that bearable,” she says.

The girl laughs. “Come on, I got you.”

She turns and walks back where she came from, down the hall and towards the school exit. Shay hesitates for a moment, and then bounds after her. Fuck it. She’ll figure something out to get the weed back. 

They exit into the bright Austin sunshine, Shay’s hand grazing across the girl’s as they hold the door open for one another. She turns around to smile, and Shay can’t help the grin that blossoms across her face. There’s something about this girl that’s so… Shay doesn’t know. Something fun and beautiful and mischievous that has her heart racing. 

They end up in the senior parking lot, standing behind a black Hummer. Shay watches as the girl pulls out a packet of cigarettes and a red lighter from the pocket of her denim jacket. She pops the carton open and pulls out what Shay’s pretty sure is a spliff, from the obvious way it’s been carefully torn apart and then re-rolled. The girl shoves the carton back into her jacket, and then brings the spliff up to her lips to light it. 

“I’m Monique, by the way,” the girl says, before inhaling deeply.

“Shay,” Shay supplies. 

“So, Shay,” Monique says, before passing her the spliff, “how’d you get roped into all this homecoming stuff?”

Shay laughs. “I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

Monique grins. “Fair enough. I’m just asking because it doesn’t really seem like your thing.”

“My thing?” Shay takes a deep inhale, holding the smoke in her mouth for a few seconds before letting it out slowly. “We just met.”

Monique takes the spliff, their fingers brushing against each other. “I’ve seen you around. You don’t really seem like Ms. Susie High School.”

Shay squints at her. “That’s from something.”

“Sure is,” Monique cocks her head, smiling cutely. 

It’s all of a sudden a bit much, and Shay feels herself getting tongue-tied. She wants to blame it on the weed, but she’d also be lying to herself. Instead of guessing though, she ducks her head down a bit and takes the spliff back from Monique. The other girl doesn’t seem to mind the silence, though. She leans against the Hummer and the two pass the spliff back and forth between them, Shay’s whole body tingling every time their fingers briefly touch. It again feels strangely intimate; Shay clears her throat sightly, and tries to break the silence in an organic way. 

“I, uh, haven’t really seen you much,” Shay finally says. “Are you new?”

“Yup,” Monique accentuates her 'p,' drawing it out. “Just transferred in. Love being the new kid during senior year.”

Shay starts coughing, trying to wave away the smoke in her face. “Oh, damn.”

“Yeah,” Monique scrunches her nose up. “Damn is exactly how I feel.”

“Do you ladies mind if I join?”

Shay jumps, immediately turning to hide the mostly finished spliff behind her back. Monique’s back straightens as she glances at the newcomer, suddenly holding herself rigid. Shay vaguely recognizes the guy talking to them. Tall, white with brown hair. She’s pretty sure he graduated last year. H-something. Harry, maybe?

He openly laughs. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I smelled the party y’all are throwing over here and wondered if I could have some.”

Shay hesitates for a moment, glancing at Monique.

“Sure,” Monique says, no emotion in her voice. “It’s almost killed though.”

“No sweat,” he says. 

Shay hands the spliff over to him, and he pulls at it for a long breath.

The guy lets his breath go. “Hunter, by the way. I remember seeing you two around last year.”

There’s an awkward pause before Shay answers. “Uhm, yeah. I’m Shay, this is Monique.”

To Shay’s surprise, Monique says, “didn’t you graduate last year?”

Hunter chuckles. “Yeah, but my girlfriend is in dance practice or something. I’m just picking her up. You guys might know her. Lana McDonnell?”

The name rings a bell. Shay’s pretty sure Lana is a Kitten, and a junior at that. Monique makes a noise that sounds somewhat polite but mostly disinterested. He takes another pull of the spliff, and Shay can’t help but notice he didn’t even offer it back to either of them before he did. The door to the school opens, and a few people from the meeting filter out. Shay tries not to curse. 

“I better get to it then,” Hunter says after he releases the smoke. 

He finally passes the spliff back it to Monique. She gives him a tight smile and tosses it onto the ground, stubbing it out with her sneakers. Shay tries not to look surprised; there was probably two or three more hits left on the thing, if they really stretched it. He nods at both of them before turning and walking back towards where he came from. Shay watches Monique as she watches him go, a cold look on her face. The silence between them grows, almost unbearably awkward. 

“I better go too,” Shay finally mutters. 

“Yeah,” Monique says distractedly. “See you around.”

+++

**Saturday, September 21, 12:02 AM **

_ Yeah, this album is dedicated _

_ To all the teachers that told me I'd never amount to nothin' _

_ To all the people that lived above the buildings that I was hustlin' in front of _

_ Called the police on me when I was just tryin' to make some money to feed my daughter (it's all good) _

_ And all the niggas in the struggle _

_ You know what I'm sayin'? It's all good, baby baby _

If there’s one thing Shay’s learned from Tyler about cyber-stalking someone, it's that you don’t even really need their last name to try to find them. This one time, they had figured out this dude he was hooking up with had not one, but two, other girlfriends simply by having a nickname and careful Friends-of-Friends list perusing. With all that in mind, she thought finding Monique would be easier than it’s proven to be. 

Shay sighs into the darkness of her room, laying on her back in bed. She has to keep her head inclined just slightly to make sure that her headphones don’t awkwardly shift on her head, but it’s not super uncomfortable. Her phone’s hovering a few inches from her face, and she has a tight grip on it. It’s already slipped from her hands and smacked her in the face too many times in one evening. Facebook had been a dead end, and Instagram hadn’t proven to be any easier. She reasons that it’s possible that Monique has a Finsta too, but it’s not one that she’s been able to find.

Shay chews on the inside of her lips, typing in Zoya’s handle again and staring at the _ this account is private _ message mocking her. It would literally be as easy as hitting the blue “Follow” button, but it’s so unbelievably desperate she’s not ready to go to that level. It was one spliff in the parking lot one time, she tells herself. Nothing to get her panties in a twist over. 

She jams onto the lock button on her phone and tosses it to the side, shaking her head. Leaning over to her nightstand, she clicks on the small lamp, and then reaches for her notebook instead. There’s a pen jammed between the pages of where she last left off, and she rolls onto her stomach so that she can lean on her elbows to start writing. She’s got the hook of this one new song down, but the rest of it isn’t really coming to her. It’s now or never, she thinks wryly, and begins to scribble onto the page. 

+++


	2. New Neighbors

+++

**Sunday, September 22, 12:23 PM **

“And I just wish that you would realize that the real fine -”

A large crash drowns out Marlon’s voice, making the three of them jump and them start groaning. 

“How much noise can they possibly make?” Marlon gripes. “They’re just moving in.”

They’re back in Marlon's garage, trying to have band practice. They keep being interrupted by the new neighbors next door, a bunch of 20-somethings who can’t seem to figure out how to get their shit into the house without causing a ruckus. They’ve barely been able to get through one song without someone dropping something or screaming or some shit, the noise crashing through the garage. 

“Fuck, you’re supposed to be setting that up, not destroying that shit!” 

Shay sighs, rubbing at her eyes. When she looks back up at Marlon, he’s scrolling on his phone, a hurt look flashing across his face. Before Shay can open her mouth to ask what’s up though, speakers crackle to life and then start blasting. 

_ Yeah...my Lord...yeah _

_ We sell, crack to our own out the back of our homes _

_ We smell the musk at the dusk in the crack of the dawn _

_ We go through "Epidodes II, " like "Attack of the Clones" _

_ Work 'til we break our back and you hear the crack of the bone _

_ To get by...just to get by _

_ Just to get by, just to get by _

“I -” Marlon tosses his hands in the air. “Fuck it. Let’s take ten. I have to make a call anyway.”

He shakes his head and stalks back into his house, slamming the door behind him. Shay sighs and drops down onto her stool, tilting her head back to stare at the spiderwebs dotting the ceiling. Tyler mumbles something and makes his way around to the couch, dropping down on it heavily. He props his feet up on an empty crate and pulls his phone out. 

“You don’t think Mar is actually talking to that freshman, do you?” Shay asks after a few minutes.

Tyler glances up. “Nah.”

“Then what’s up with the phone call?”

Tyler rolls his eye. “What else? It’s probably Megan.”

Shay shakes her head slowly. “No way. Didn’t he say that was over months ago?”

“But you know how they are,” Tyler says. “On and off, on and off.”

“Did he tell you that?” 

“No. But what else could it possibly be about? She thrives on the drama.”

“Hey,” Shay says somewhat defensively, “it’s not all on Meg.”

“It never is,” Tyler says in an odd tone.

He’s looking at his phone as he says it, so Shay can’t catch his eyes and try to figure out exactly what he’s saying. She thinks that he’s making fun of her or something, about how she’s always defended Megan even when she’s been in the wrong. Usually, she’d just shake it off; but there’s something about it that’s bothering her today. It’s not about her past crush, it’s about the fact that they’ve never really talked about Marlon’s role in all the bullshit. Yeah, Megan fucked up, in a lot of ways, big time. But it’s not like Marlon was completely innocent. And she’s close enough to him to be able to say that painful truth honestly. 

Tyler finally looks up, and much catch something in her face. But instead of apologizing or clarifying, he just makes a face at her. Shay tightens her jaw, and he gives her a world-weary sigh.

“Come on, Shay,” he says, like he’s tired of the conversation.

“Look,” Shay starts. “I just think -”

“That this guy would be way more hot if he didn’t look like someone inflated him like a balloon?” Tyler cuts her off, flashing his phone at her. 

Shay pauses for a minute, wondering if she really should continue on this conversation, or just drop it like Tyler is asking her to. She finds her eyes scanning over his phone screen. The photo he’s showing her is of a scarily buff guy obviously flexing for the camera. She waits another moment, and then fakes a small chuckle. It’s not worth it. 

“Yeah, like if you pricked him with something he’d pop,” Shays says, then smirks for real. “That’s what she said.”

Tyler smirks back at her and then goes back to scrolling through Grindr. Shay gets up to move onto the couch with him, so they can make fun of some more guys together, when a shadow falls over the open doorway. She blinks in surprise, recognizing the people standing right outside the garage. It’s Grace’s cousin Eve and her friend from the party, Diana. 

“What a small world!” Diana grins at Shay.

“Hi,” Shay says in surprise. “Diana, Eve.” 

Tyler looks up, face furrowing. “Hey.”

“You live here?” Eve asks, looking between Shay and Tyler. “No shit.”

“No, our friend Marlon,” Shay says, confused. “We just practice here.”

Diana and Eve finally seem to notice all the instruments and equipment in the garage, and they make a loud “ohhh” noise. They walk further into the garage, Eve moving around Shay to touch the keyboard and inspect some of the wiring to the speakers. Tyler sits up, as if he’s about to go over and tell her not to touch anything. Diana perches on the couch arm and smiles at her and Tyler. She’s wearing overalls with what looks like a sports bra underneath it, exposing a large, colorful tattoo that stretches from her chest past her shoulder. Shay thinks it’s of two women embracing each other. 

“You guys have a band? That’s awesome,” Diana says.

“They’re really good,” Eve says from the floor. “Wait, I think I played them for you. Clout?”

“Oh!” Diana grins. “Oh, you did. Wow, you guys are really good. I love ‘Life in Italics.’”

“Thanks,” Shay smiles. 

“We have merch if you want to buy some,” Tyler says.

Diana grins. “Maybe next paycheck. All my money went to the moving van.”

“Oh, so it's y'all who keep interrupting our band practice."

“Oh yeah, that’s me,” Diana says. “Sorry if we’re being too loud.”

“It’s fine,” Tyler says. “We love being interrupted by shattering glass.”

“Ouch,” Diana grins. “Got the message. We’ll keep it down.”

Eve stands up. “That reminds me. You know if there’s any tools around here that we can borrow?”

Shay shrugs. “We just practice here.”

Eve starts moving around the rest of the garage like she lives there, peeking through boxes and shelves. Tyler gives her a strange look and then goes back to his phone, deciding not to be bothered. Shay wonders if she should holler for Marlon or his mom.

“But hey, do you guys have Insta?” Diana asks. “For your band. I tried looking for you on Facebook too but all I found was your Soundcloud page.”

“Uhm, no,” Shay says. 

“You should do an Insta,” Diana says. “It would be a good way to market yourselves while controlling your narrative. You can post Stories of your practices, do graphics for your lyrics, get the word out about your shows and new merch you bring in.”

Tyler lifts his eyes just slightly, calculatingly. Shay knows that he’s wondering if he’s dismissed Diana too early. Shay’s thinking about how smart what she’s saying is, and wondering why they hadn’t thought of it sooner. 

“Plus, fans love an interactive experience,” Diana says. “Just something to think about.” 

“Dee!” Eve emerges from a dusty corner of the garage, welding some kind of power tool around like a sword. “Got it.”

“Oh, cool,” Diana says. “Ya’ll okay if we borrow this?”

\---

**Monday, September 23, 8:55 AM **

_ Did you check the page? Already up to 500 followers_.

Shay closed her group chat with Tyler and Marlon with a silly grin on her face, going back into Instagram. Diana’s idea had been, obviously, a great one. They had just done the page last night and already they were gaining hundreds of followers. 

Shay refreshed the Insta page, a host of new stories popping up. She browses through them casually, frowning slightly as she went. They had agreed to only follow their favorite bands last night. However, all she’s seeing are slew of stories from people they go to school with. Shay mutters under her breath, about to text Tyler to ask what’s up with that, when she sees Zoya’s username. 

She hesitates, thinking to a few nights before, before sliding her thumb over the story circle.

It’s a video of a bunch of Black and brown people Shay doesn’t recognize, running around and laughing in someone’s backyard. Shay looks around to make sure no one is paying attention to her. It’s early enough that she’s one of the few people in class already though; Mr. Anderson isn’t even in yet. She presses her thumb into the screen to pause it, sliding her headphones into her ears. She turns the volume up slightly, enough to catch the sound of Zoya’s laugh as she records. The next frame goes, and Shay almost drops her phone when she catches sight of Monique. 

She’s screaming as Zoya chases her around, the scene obviously being recorded by someone new. Zoya says something quickly that Shay doesn’t quite catch - something about homecoming - and Monique just laughs back at her over her shoulder. Zoya has a water balloon in her hand that she lobs right at Monique’s back, soaking the girl entirely. Monique shrieks and dives onto the grass. 

The story ends, and Shay doesn’t even hesitate to go onto Zoya’s page, scrolling through her photos. Most of them are of her friends, inspirational quotes, and selfies. But Shay pauses when she reaches one not too far down, taken in early August. It’s of Monique and some guy, their arms around each other as Monique kisses his face. Shay’s heart stutters for a moment and she reads the caption. _ The happy couple_.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

The bell rings, but Shay ignores it, thumb hovering over her screen. 

A bag slams down besides her, and Shay jumps. She claps her phone onto the table, face down, and looks up. Zoya slides into the seat next to her, seemingly nonplussed. Shay glares at her, waiting for Zoya to acknowledge her. Instead, Zoya just digs through her bag slowly, pulling out a pencil case, textbook, and notebook. The class begins to fill up around them. She yanks her headphones back out of her ears.

“Hello?” Shay says grumpily. 

Zoya glances at her briefly. “Hey.”

Shay waits for her to say something else, but Zoya remains silent. Kelesy rushes into the room just as Mr. Anderson begins taking roll, shooting Zoya a wide grin. Shay watches incredulously as Zoya smiles back at her, moving her bag over so that Kelesy can put her stuff down on the table and slide into the seat right across from them. Shay has to shift her own notebook over when Zoya’s bag almost bumps into her. Kelsey starts to say something about needing to make more copies of something for something, that she’s glad she wasn’t super late to class. 

“Ms. Russell, if you don’t mind?” Mr. Anderson says, frowning at her. “I’d like to start the lesson, if that’s okay with your busy schedule.”

Kelsey turns pink and looks down. “Sorry, Mr. Anderson.”

“What a dick,” Shay mutters.

Kelsey glances at her, looking surprised before shooting her a grateful look. 

To Shay’s surprise, Zoya nods too. “He’s just a sad asshole.”

Kelsey presses her lips together to stop a smile, before turning towards the front of the room. Shay waits a few moments, waiting for her to be properly distracted by class, before giving a small cough. She turns her head slightly towards Zoya. When Zoya doesn’t react at all, Shay coughs again, slightly louder. 

“What?” Zoya hisses.

“I think there’s something you need to give me?” Shay whispers.

That catches her attention.

“Do I now?” Zoya glares.

“I showed up to your dumb meeting -”

“Yeah, and you left a quarter of the way through,” Zoya says, voice low. “Also the deal was for you and your friends.”

“Okay?”

“You didn’t do what you were supposed to do. So I’m keeping the weed.”

Shay curls her hand tightly around her phone, trying to remain quiet and calm. “Come on!”

Zoya narrows her eyes, and moves to shift her bag closer to her. “I already told you, no.”

Shay’s about to keep arguing with her, but then squints at Zoya’s hand, protectively curled around the zipper of her backpack. “Wait a minute. Do you have it with you right now?”

“That’s none of your damn business!” Zoya hisses.

Shay’s eyes bulge. “Are you crazy!”

“I-”

“You’re such a hypocrite! Telling me I’m a bad person and what would’ve happened if you got caught with the weed, but now you’re just carrying it around! And what would you do if you got caught now, keep blaming me -”

“Oh shut up,” Zoya hisses. “Damn you’re so annoying. Just - fine just take it.”

She shoves her bag over to Shay, yanking the zipper open. Out of the corner of her eye, Shay sees Kelsey’s eyes widen comically, before she starts shaking her head slightly. Zoya’s narrowed glare turns into a slightly panicked look, before her features school back into a blank gaze. Shay swallows.

“Ms. Ali, Ms. Dixon,” Mr. Anderson drones somewhere above Shay’s head, “what’s going on here?”

Shay slumps into her chair, heart pounding furiously. “Nothing.”

“So if I reach into the bag, I won’t find anything?” Mr. Anderson asks. “Show me what’s in there. Now.”

The room is as quiet as it is during exams. In her periphery, Kelsey’s face is white. Zoya’s looks like it was carved from stone. Shay’s mouth is completely dry, as she tries to think of something, anything to do.

Mr. Anderson isn’t done. “I expected more from you two. Some of my brightest students in class, reduced to a stereotype -”

Shay’s not sure exactly where he was going to go with his speech, but Zoya cuts him off by letting out a loud noise of indignation. She grabs the bag closer to her, sticks her hand inside, and whips something out lightning-fast. She tosses whatever’s in her hand onto the table, landing with a soft thwack. Shay can barely look as Kelsey makes a choking noise.

“Is this what you wanted to see?” Zoya asks, voice barely concealing her anger. “Is this what you want to yell at two Black girls for? A tampon?” 

Shay’s mouth drops open before she can stop it, and her eyes zoom to the Kotex tampon sitting in the middle of the table. She manages to clamp her mouth shut as she darts her gaze up to Mr. Anderson, who is slowly turning pink. Somewhere behind Shay, one of her classmates giggles. Surprisingly, it’s Kelsey who speaks first.

“If there’s any further issues, Mr. Anderson,” she says slowly, “I’m sure we can get our Title IX coordinator on the phone to talk about it.”

“Ms. Russell,” Mr. Anderson says warningly. 

Shay clears her throat. “I just think it’s wild that we can’t even bleed in peace without -”

“Ms. Dixon!” 

Shay has to bite down on her bottom lip to stop herself from continuing the sentence. Beside her, Zoya looks like she’s shaking from trying to keep from laughing. Mr. Anderson stares down at them for a moment more, face still pink and looking suspicious.

“Just - put that way,” he finally says. “In any case, this is class time. You can wait until after class to talk about such personal matter.”

Zoya snorts, and Mr. Anderson gives her a warning look. She shrugs and shoves the tampon back into her bag, zippering it closed. Mr. Anderson walks away from them, clearing his throat and starting his lecture up again. Shay can’t hide the giddy grin that spreads across her face and Kelsey and Zoya smirk back at her. 

“I have no idea what that was, but it was awesome,” Kelsey says. 

Shay glances at Zoya, her anger from just a few minutes ago evaporated. “Yeah, it was.”

+++

**Tuesday, September 24, 11:16 AM **

_ Ready or not, here I come, you can't hide _

_ Gonna find you and take it slowly _

_ Ready or not, here I come, you can't hide _

_ Gonna find you and make you want me _

“Shay?”

Shay glances up from her writing notebook to see Megan towering over her, a hesitant smile on her face. Shay pulls her headphones off of her head, music still coming out from them. She squints as Megan seems to take that as an invitation to sit down on the bench next to her, primly folding her legs together as she does. She doesn’t say anything but bites on her lip, as if she’s trying to get the courage to speak. Shay slowly closes the notebook on her lap. 

“What’s up?” she asks.

“I just wanted to say hey,” Megan says. “Uhm, and, you know, it was cool to see you at the meeting on Friday.”

“Really?”

Megan smiles at the surprise on Shay’s face. “Well, yeah. I know we don’t… hang out anymore… but I think this could be a fun way for us to… do that.”

“Uh -”

“You’re gonna come to the next meeting, right?” Megan asks. “And to the dance?”

Shay hesitates for a moment. She had been thinking about doing exactly that, if only to have an excuse to see Monique again, but ultimately decided against it. Having her heart broken by a straight girl in a relationship once was enough for her bruised ego. Besides, going to a dumb-ass meeting just to stalk someone? What was this, 2016? 

Megan knocks her shoulder against Shay’s. “I know it… the whole thing is a lot. But I also think you might actually have fun too. I don’t know.”

“I guess,” Shay says disbelievingly. 

“I mean, I know that you, and I quote, ‘never change your mind about anything,’” Megan smiles slowly. “But sometimes it’s not so bad to do that, right?”

Shay snorts. “Oh God. You know I only said that as a joke, right?”

“It felt pretty serious at the time!” Megan laughs. “God.”

“That was ages ago,” Shay says. “I can’t believe you remember that.” 

“It’s pretty hard not to forget everyone thinking you’re just some idiot,” Megan says, voice sounding a bit too casual. “Who just follows what everyone else thinks is cool.”

Shay feels something uncomfortable coiling in her stomach. “Right.”

Megan looks away. “But that was a long time ago, anyway.”

Shay swallows. “Yeah.”

“Uhm.” Shay knows Megan well enough to know that she’s forcing a smile on her face. “Anyway. Just think about it. I think it would be fun for you to come.”

Shay hesitates again, studying the fake smile on Megan’s face. She’s not sure what any of this is about, but she’s almost sure it doesn’t actually have to do with her. Does Megan know that Zoya is holding Marlon’s weed hostage, and is subversively trying to send her a message? Or - does Megan only want Shay to come in the hopes that Marlon will come along? She thinks about all the times that just the two of them were supposed to hang out, and it was all kind of a ruse just for Megan to have someone to talk to about Marlon. Her stomach cramps uncomfortably as she thinks about how pitifully eager she used to be just to get to be with Megan alone, always for it to end up being a gripe fest. It's not that she really minded, because that's what friends do; it's just kinda the principle of the thing. And... she still has no idea what’s going on between the two of them now, so it’s possible that this is all just Megan trying to get back with him.

Again. 

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Shay says. “It’s really just… not our scene.”

Megan furrows her brow. “Our?”

“Yeah. Me, Ty, Mar.”

Megan says, “I mean, no, but… you don’t always have to do everything the guys do, do you?”

Suddenly the words are spilling out of Shay, as if she’s lost complete control of her self-preservation instincts. As she speaks, she can practically hear the pleading notes in her voice, and she prays it doesn’t come out as desperately pathetic as it sounds. Because the thing is; she doesn’t even like Megan in that way, not any more. But a small part of her still just… wants to be seen. 

“You just want me to go? By myself?” 

Megan looks surprised. “Uhm. Yeah. Like I said, we haven’t hung out at all. And… I miss that.”

Shay catches the flash of hurt in Megan’s dark eyes. She shifts uncomfortably, not knowing what to say. 

“I… I miss you,” Megan says. “Is that… really such a surprise?” 

“Thank God you’re here!”

“Shay, fuck, here you are!”

Shay startles away from Megan, her breath caught in her throat. Suddenly, Tyler, Marlon, and Kelsey are crowding around them, all talking a mile a minute. Shay can barely parse out what they’re saying. It’s a cacophony, with neither party seeming to care that the other one is speaking louder and louder to drown out the other voices. Kelsey shoots a disgusted look at Marlon, and that’s finally Shay’s last straw.

“Could alla y’all, just like, chill?” Shay finally shouts. 

The quiet lasts for a heartbeat.

“It’s great that you’re both here because I have a huge favor to ask!” Kelsey bursts out. “Shay, please. We’re going to have a homecoming meeting slash pregame at Jo’s on Friday and I need you to bring liquor.”

“What?” Tyler stares at Kelsey like she’s crazy.

“Yeah, what?” Shay asks.

Kelsey gives Shay a pointed look. “Well, you are on the committee, are you not? Zoya confirmed with me that you confirmed with her -”

“Anyway,” Tyler shoots Kelsey a dirt look, “for more important news. We have an audition!”

Marlon beams at her. “Friday night.”

“Fucking awesome!” Shay grins, and she and Tyler dab.

“It’s at this bar on Main,” Marlon says. “To get put on their regular Thursday night roster.”

“Happy hour,” Tyler says.

Before Shay can say anything else, Kelsey cuts in again. 

“I mean, that’s really, like, really cool and all,” she says with a manic grin, “but Shay you’re like, kinda already committed to this thing -”

“No she’s not,” Tyler says.

“ - at least that’s what Zoya told me, that you’re like, super, super committed to this,” Kelsey says. “You know. Being a team player and all that.”

Tyler mutters, "how many times can one person say 'committed' in the span of a few minutes, Jesus Christ." 

Kelsey holds Shay's gaze for what feels like an eternity, her eyes sharpening even as that plastic smile stays fixated on her face. Shay’s not exactly sure if Zoya’s ratted on her to Kelsey, but she has the distinct feeling that Kelsey has some kind of dirt on her and is completely willing to exploit her for it. Tyler and Marlon are still staring at Kelsey like she’s from another planet, Tyler already opening his mouth to argue.

“Uhm, maybe you could come to the meeting first and then go to the audition?” Megan says. “The meeting starts at six. What time is the audition?”

Shay doesn’t like the annoyed look on Marlon’s face. “Not until ten.”

“Oh, so that’s just like, perfect!” Kelsey beams.

“Oh yeah,” Tyler says sarcastically. “Great idea Megan.”

“It really was, thanks Tyler,” Megan shoots back.

“Uhm,” Shay starts to argue.

“Okay, sounds great,” Kelsey says, speaking right over her. “Have you been getting the groupchat messages? I’m sending Jo’s address to everyone tonight. And oh. Don’t forget to bring a bottle!”

+++

**Wednesday, September 25, 9:33 PM **

_New message from: **Dad**_

Hi honey.

I know I thought I would be home this week, but I picked up a few extra routes for some easy cash.

Not sure when I'll be home, but I'm hoping within a couple of weeks.

I miss you and your mom too, please make sure you're taking care of her.

You know how hard it can be and I don't want her to have to deal with her illness alone. 

Make sure to study hard and don't let these boys distract you too much! 

Love you.

Dad. 

+++

**Thursday, September 26, 6:09 PM **

_ Instinct leads me to another flow _

_ Everytime I hear a brother call a girl a bitch or a ho _

_ Trying to make a sister feel low _

_ You know all of that gots to go _

_ Now everybody knows there's exceptions to this rule _

_ Now don't be getting mad, when we playing, it's cool _

A beat-up blue car slows down in front of the house next door. Shay watches as the passenger door opens before it comes to a complete stop; Diana practically jumps out of the car. She’s letting out a string of expletives that Shay can hear all the way from her lawn chair seat in Marlon’s front yard. Whoever’s in the car is screaming back at her, before it peels off down the street. The noise the car makes is so obnoxious that Shay flinches away from it. 

Diana stands on the street staring after it for a moment before letting out a large screech. Shay stands up, knocking over her water bottle in the process. She glances around to see if Marlon or Tyler are seeing this, but they’re both in the house, cooling off after their long band practice. Shay takes a hesitant step, and then stops. 

Before she can decide what to do, Diana turns, startling as she sees Shay. Shay halfheartedly waves at her, taking a deep breath. Now that she’s been spotted, she really has no choice but to meander over towards the shrubs bordering Marlon’s house from Diana’s. Diana walks up her lawn slowly, looking like she’s taking a few breaths before grinning at Shay. She’s wearing an oversized black and white Hawaiian shirt and baggy pants. 

“Hey girl,” she says, running her hands over the top of the bush between them. “How’s it going?”

“Uhm, fine,” Shay says. “You know. Band practice.”

“Oh, cool,” Diana says. “And hey - I saw you guys took my advice! I added y’all right away. Just don’t forget to tag me when you win your first Grammy.”

Shay laughs in surprise. “Yeah, right.”

“Hey, confidence is key and all that jazz,” Diana says.

“Right.” Shay pauses. “Are… you ok?”

Diana gives her a crooked grin. “I guess my little show would’ve been hard to miss.”

Shay winces slightly. “Uhm...”

“It’s fine,” Diana breathes out heavily. “Just some assholes, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Shay says. 

Diana laughs, a bitter tinger to the sound. “Honestly? I really hope you don’t.”

Shay pauses for a moment, not sure what to say to that. She opens her mouth to ask Diana if she wants to talk about it, when her front door bangs open. A brown-skinned person with short, shaved multicolored hair runs out, waving a phone around. The person races right over to Diana, almost tackling her in a hug.

“Holy shit, I just got your text!” they say. “Are you okay?”

Diana groans, rolling her neck around. “Ugh. Yeah. Same shit, different asshole.”

“Ugh,” the person says. “Did you report your driver already?”

“No, I haven’t had a chance to,” Diana says. “I literally just got out the car.”

“Fucking piece of -” the person starts to say, before seeming to notice Shay. “Oh. Hey.”

They let go of Diana and squint at Shay like she’s familiar. Shay thinks she’s seen this person around as well. Maybe at a party at Grace’s house or something.

“Shay, Jamie, Jamie, Shay,” Diana says. “Shay’s in a band with someone who lives here, they practice in the back. Jamie’s one of my roommates. They’re actually a musician, too.”

“Oh -” Shay fumbles. “That’s cool.”

“Classic pianist,” Jamie says. “Probably not as cool as whatever it is you’re doing. God, a garage band? We should start one, Dee.”

Diana laughs. “Yeah, right after this semester is over. My bio lab is gonna be the death of me.”

“Right?” Jamie grins. “But hey, you look familiar. Are you in my Psych 101 class?”

“Uh, no,” Shay says. “I’m in high school.”

“You’ve probably seen her around at Eve’s place,” Diana says. “She’s friends with her cousin.”

Jamie makes a noise of agreement before Shay can correct Diana to say that no, she’s not friends with Grace Olsen. 

“She’s sweet, if a little white feminist-y,” Jamie says. “The baby cousin.”

Diana says, “Yeah, wonder where she got that from.”

Jamie snorts, then punches Diana’s shoulder. “Stop!”

“You know I got love for Eve, but come on,” Diana says teasingly. “How many ‘this fruit represents a vagina’ art shows are we gonna have to sit through?”

The two of them crack up laughing, and Shay shifts awkwardly. She’s not entirely sure what they’re talking about, and to be honest, she doesn’t quite care. But she can’t help but feel that pang of loneliness as she watches the two of them, hanging onto each other as they laugh. Before long though, Jamie’s wide grin fades into a frown. 

“Seriously though, you okay? I can’t believe your Uber guy called you a -”

Diana glances at Shay, and then cracks a fake smile. “It’s fine. Seriously.”

Jamie’s frown deepens, “But -”

“It’s fine, Jay,” Diana says.

Shay has the uneasy feeling that Diana just doesn’t want to discuss this in front of her, and she shifts uncomfortably. She jerks her thumb behind her, back towards Marlon’s house.

“I can just -” she starts to say.

Diana winces. “Nah, girl it’s not you. It’s just…”

“Diana was on a date and her Uber driver started being a huge creep after he dropped the other girl off,” Jamie supplies. “You know how it is.”

“Uhm -”

“Thanks for that, Jay,” Diana says wryly, before running her hand over her braids. “But it’s - you know. Fucked up, but it happens.”

Jamie shakes their head. “Did I tell you what happened in my English class? These two douches that were sitting behind me were talking about how there’s a ‘hot lesbian’ in their dorm, and that one of them wants to ask his girlfriend to ask her to be their unicorn.”

“Ugh,” Diana says. “Fucking pigs.”

“Please tell me the boys in your school are the evolved kinda of Gen Xers,” Jamie says, shooting a fake-pleading glance at Shay. 

Shay laughs. “No, not really.”

Jamie shakes their head. “God, I remember being the only queer kid in my school and it was the worse. This girl once corned me, senior year, and told me she’d whoop my ass if she caught me in the woman’s bathroom again.”

“Same!” Diana says. “Except for me it was the locker room. She said something like, ‘we don’t need lezzies in here staring at us,’ and I think I said something like, ‘on behalf of all dykes, I promise you, no one is interested in your bony ass.’”

They both laugh, and then turn to Shay, as if expecting her to share in on the stories. Shay stares at them, her heart pounding an unfamiliar rhythm that she can feel in her throat. It’s the same sort of feeling she got in the spring, Grace’s voice floating through the rows of lockers. _ Please Megan, not every lesbian is into you_.

She’s not… she’s not ashamed of herself. And she's not exactly in the closet, at least not fully, when Tyler and Marlon both know she's a lesbian. But how can Diana and Jamie know? Logically she knows that it's probably just because they're also gay, and made assumptions because of how she looks. But... how can she spend four years with people, live an entire lifetime in one house, and be safe, and yet half a conversation and she’s suddenly… out?

Her mouth opens, but nothing can move her dry tongue. Her eyes dart from Diana to Jamie, pleading with them for something; she’s not even sure what she’s asking of them.

Diana’s eyes soften for a moment. “Oh, God. Sorry, we didn’t mean to just put you on the spot, girl.”

Jamie seems to catch onto whatever is happening. “Oh wow, yeah. You see a cool teenager with shaved pink hair and you just start making guesses.”

Shay’s throat works. “It’s - uhm. It’s okay.”

“Shay!” 

She half turns to see Marlon waving at her from the garage opening, giving Diana and Jamie an odd look. Shay nods back at him, something that she can’t define deflating her nerves. It’s not quite relief, but it’s too faint to be anything else but that. When she turns back to look at Diana and Jamie, they’re still giving her apologetic looks. And it’s - that’s not what she wants, even if she’s not exactly sure what she wants, here. 

“This one time this girl I had a crush on and her best friend were making fun of me liking her,” Shay says, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “You know those straight girls that are always calling each other wifey and stuff?”

Diana smiles hesitantly at her. “Oh God, those girls are the worst.”

“The worst,” Jamie echoes, stretching the word out.

"It happened in the locker room." Shay says.

"The locker room is literally the devil's chamber," Jamie says gravely. 

Shay smiles at both of them, something that she can barely control spreading across her face. It’s probably silly but there’s something… Shay doesn’t know. The moment... it's small but it's something. 

“I better get back to it,” Shay says. “But I’ll… uhm, see you guys later?”

“Yeah, of course,” Diana’s smile stretches.

+++

**Friday, September 27, 3:12 PM**

_ Hey Shay! Kelsey here. Just a reminder to bring a bottle to Jo’s tonight! Thanks! _

Marlon and Tyler are completely unsympathetic, and Shay wonders why she’s even surprised.

“Don’t forget to like, make sure it’s sugarfree, gluten free, zero calorie vodka, Shady,” Tyler says in a mock imitation. “We want to make sure that we can all drink it and not gain a pound!”

“Not cool,” Shay says, frowning at him.

She slouches against Marlon’s car, groaning as Marlon finishes off the joint they’d been sharing. She moves back as his tosses it to the ground, grinding the roach under his shoe. Luckily, Shay’s been able to dodge any further questions about the missing weed. Marlon’s been too distracted about the audition to ask about it, and it turns out Abby’s brother isn’t great at keeping track of what he’s already given Marlon to sell and what they’ve smoked together already. Shay figures she’ll just get the weed back from Zoya tonight and squash this whole shit.

Unfortunately, she thinks a bribe might help the whole thing go easier, too. Hence, her issue about the liquor. 

“You sure you don’t want a lift?” Marlon asks. “I’ll drop you off at your house.”

“No, it’s fine,” Shay says. “I gotta figure out this fucking thing.”

“Maybe some creep outside the liquor store will buy it for you if you bat your eyelashes,” Tyler jokes as he climbs into the passenger seat. 

“You also just don’t have to do any of this,” Marlon frowns. “I don’t know what’s been up with you lately, but…”

“It’s nothing,” Shay says. “It’s just a thing.”

“Right,” Marlon says. “Anyway. The audition’s at ten, remember.”

“I’ll be there,” Shay says.

She pushes herself off of the car and hops back onto the sidewalk. Marlon gives her one last look before climbing into his truck, music floating through the open windows as he turns the car on. Shay rocks back as they pull out of the parking spot, stomach twisted in knots for lying about all this stupid shit. Her eyes focus on the license plate as they drive away; Marlon honks his horn twice. 

_ This sound like kiddies on the playground when mama was running up _

_ Ooh, you about to get your ass beat _

_ This sound like niggas complaining when their bitches like Raz-B _

_ B2K in the stereo, we juke in the back seat _

_ Or juke in the basement, in love with my KSWISS's _

_ This feel like jumping in a pool and I'm knowing I can't swim _

Shay sighs, rolling her neck around. Maybe she can hit up Diana? She had added Clout on Instagram last night - _ howtotranurdragon_. Shay nibbles on her bottom lip, wondering if that’s pushing things too far, especially because she doesn’t know her all that well. But maybe if she plays up the whole, _ isn’t it better to ask someone I trust than ask a stranger? t_hing, maybe… 

Shay shakes her head at the idea as soon as it comes to her, guilt settling down in her stomach. She doesn’t want to use Diana like that, or take advantage of how nice she’s been. It’s just not right. 

“Fuck,” Shay breathes out. 

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” a voice next to her says.

Shay startles, Monique suddenly standing next to her with a wide grin on her face. Her hair is wrapped up in a bright green turban today, and she’s wearing faded denim overalls. Shay’s never seen earrings so big on anyone before, but Monique’s huge hoops don’t even drag her lobes down. Before she can stop herself, a smile is spreading across her face. It feels like she’s swimming in honey, the way she feels as she looks at the way Monique’s brown skin shines in the sun. 

“Hey,” Monique says.

“Hey,” Shay says. 

“Everything okay?” Monique asks. “You look like your ride just drove off without you.”

Shay groans. “It’s not that. It’s this stupid meeting.”

Monique laughs. “Oh, shit. So you got dragged back into the homecoming thing too, huh? Man, Zoya almost ripped me a new one for skipping the last time.”

Shay crashes back to the reality of her situation, the one where Monique definitely has a boyfriend and Shay definitely can’t afford to become attached to her. She laughs, though she doesn’t find anything funny about the situation; the noise is brittle to her own ears, but Monique doesn’t seem to notice at all. She tries to keep a smile on her face, tries to be friendly. Tries not to find an excuse to keep talking to Monique a moment longer, when she knows it isn’t going to lead anywhere but to her own stupid fucking dashed hopes. 

“Yeah,” Shay says. “And somehow I got roped into bringing booze.”

Monique barks out a laugh. “That Kelsey girl, huh? She tried it with me but luckily, I can pull the Muslim card.”

Shay tries to hide the surprised look on her face, but must not do a very good job. Monique laughs into her face. Shay tries to apologize, but Monique just waves her hand as if she’s brushing smoke out of her face. Shay tries to crack a joke about it, feeling like a tool.

“Just when I was about to ask you if you knew where I could cop a bottle,” she says.

Monique grins at her. “Well, it’s just your lucky day, cause I actually know a guy.”

“You do?”

“Well, it’s less of a guy, and more of my cousin,” Monique concedes. “I’m pretty sure I can convince her to buy at least some Smirnoff Ice for you.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, no problem. If you don’t mind stopping at my house before the meeting? There’s a liquor store right down the block, so I’m sure you can just give her the cash and she’ll get it for you.”

Shay knows it’s probably a bad idea to say yes.

“That sounds great.”

“Cool,” Monique says. “Come on, my car is right over there.”

_   
Somethin', my body's sayin' somethin'_

_I'm underwater, drownin'_

_I know that I ain't trippin'_

_Can't leave without it_

_Bounce, then, I'll take you to my house and_

_I'll show you all around it_

_Yeah, we could keep it bouncin'_

_Yeah, we could keep it_

Monique hangs her keys up on a hook by the door, kicking her shoes off in the entryway. Shay follows her lead, noticing how there’s dozens of pairs of shoes in the foyer, all different sizes and styles. Monique calls out that she’s home, going into the next room. Shay trails after her, trying to get used to the heavy smell of incense. It’s not necessarily bad; but it’s just a scent that she’s not really used to, and couldn’t even name it if she tried.

The living room looks lived in, reminding Shay of home. There are generations of family photos dotting the wall and the couch is overly stuffed, probably many years past its prime. She immediately recognizes a framed photo of Obama near the television, and she cracks a smile at the sight of it. Monique glances back at her and then follows her gaze, laughing when she catches sight of the portrait.

“I know, it’s so…” Monique shakes her head. “It’s like required artwork for every Black person in America. Especially with that orange racist in office.”

“The only thing that woulda made President Obama more perfect,” a deeper voice says, “besides his foreign policy and his immigration policy, which were much more moderate than we wanna believe, is if he actually was Muslim.” 

Shay chokes out a surprised laugh as an older Black man, with salt and pepper hair and suspenders on, comes into the living room. A Black woman around his age, with a grey dreadlocks comes in after him, shaking her head. 

“George, no matter how much you and them racist ass Republicans wish he was, Obama ain’t Muslim,” she says, before shooting a knowing look at Shay and Monique. “And if he was, I wouldn’t claim him. He really wasn’t all that great, in my opinion, it’s just the power of celebrity in this country is -”

“Celebrity or not he made substantive changes,” the older man, George, says. “And you can’t blame my man for them conservatives in the Senate blocking him at every turn -”

“Okay, and that’s where I cut you off,” Monique says. “Pops, Grandma, this is Shay. Shay, these are my grandparents, George and Annie, who think they’re still active Black Panther members.”

Shay almost chokes.

Annie reaches over, gently swatting Monique. “You better watch yourself girl. Your mother may have brought you into this world, but I have no problem taking you out.”

Monique grins, unfazed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Is Asia home?” 

Annie laughs. “Who knows where that cousin of yours went.” 

“Everyone’s out, I’m afraid,” George says. “Which reminds me. We better get going. Don’t wanna miss that early bird special.”

“Date night Friday,” Annie says to Shay. “It’s an important thing, getting out and showing off, no matter how long you’ve been together.”

“Yeah,” George says, then nods as Monique. “Don’t let this one get lazy once you’ve been together for a while.”

Shay almost swallows her tongue.

“Hardy har, Pops,” Monique says, rolling her eyes. “Come on, Shay. I’ll text my cousin to see where she’s at.”

Monique stops to give her grandparents kisses on the cheek first, then moves back towards the entryway. Shay manages to stutter out that it’s nice to meet the two of them, before she follows Monique through the house and up a carpeted staircase. She very deliberately stares at her own feet as she goes up and not at Monique’s ass. 

“Sorry about them,” Monique says as she opens the first door to at the top of the stairs. “They’re just a little intense. I think they’re bored since they’ve retired and all the kids are grown.”

Shay almost forgets to respond as she enters Monique’s room, totally overwhelmed by everything that’s going on. Her bed is pushed against one wall, with a dresser and a desk that seems too big for the space on the opposite end of the room. The closet door is half open, with some kind of print hanging off of it, and a pile of clothes creeping out from inside of it. Overall, the room is much neater than Shay’s is; what has her pausing is how many photos are all over the wall. There must be hundreds, if not thousands, of photographs taped up, overlapping one another and crowding for space. 

“Uhm, yeah,” Shay says distractedly. “Who else lives here?”

Monique throws herself onto her bed, but Shay stays standing, eyes focused on some of the photos on the wall. They’re mostly of people, but there are a few of Austin, the less glitzy parts, it seems like. Shay spots a black and white photo of Zoya almost immediately. The camera must’ve been too far up into her face because it mostly just looks like a sliver of her eyes and nose, while her smiling mouth takes up the majority of the frame. It’s slightly off-center, and Shay’s not really sure it’s even that good, objectively. But she likes it. 

“My whole family, it feels like,” Monique says. 

“Oh,” Shay says distractedly.

She turns slightly, finally noticing all the camera equipment all over the desk. She also spots a small bookcase, which looks full of those glossy, photo books that rich people keep on their coffee tables. She’s about to go over to look at them when she pauses, glancing back at Monique. Monique sits on the bed like she’s holding herself carefully, just looking back at Shay. when their eyes meet, Monique smiles at her. It’s a little bit shy, but it mostly seems excited. 

“You’re a photographer?” Shay asks, then winces. “Sorry, that sounded so dumb.”

“No, it didn’t,” Monique says. “And yeah, I am. Feel free to look around, I don’t mind. I’m gonna text my cousin to see what’s up.”

“Cool,” Shay says. 

It jars her because for a moment, she had completely forgotten about the meeting. 

She moves towards a photo near the closet, this one in full color. It’s of that guy from Zoya’s Insta, the one that Monique had been kissing. He’s sitting in the passenger seat of a car, his foot hiked up onto the dashboard, sun streaming in behind him. He’s half-smiling at the camera, but there’s something deeper in his eyes, too. Something like sorrow, maybe. It makes Shay want to reach out and hold his hand.

“My cousin says she’ll be back around five thirty, ”Monique says. “You up to smoke while we wait?”

Shay grins at her. “Sure.” 

Monique goes over to her desk and rummages through the drawer before pulling out a dime bag and a glass pipe, something with a blue, white and orange marbling on it. She goes over to the window and hefts the pane up, before perching on it. She gestures Shay over, who tentatively sits too, her knee brushing against Monique’s as she does. 

Monique starts packing the bowl. “My cousin actually got me this, from her summer abroad in The Netherlands.”

Shay laughs. “Is that what the colors are for?”

“Smarty pants,” Monique grins. “But yeah.”

Monique brings the pipe up to her mouth, tilting the lighter down to make the weed catch. Shay stares at her lips as they close over the glass, the way Monique takes a steady inhale. Shay turns away to keep from staring, looking out of the window instead. Monique’s room faces the front of the house, giving Shay a view of most of the neighborhood. There’s a bunch of kids playing tag in front of the house across the street. Monique passes the pipe over to Shay, the mouth of it still warm from her lips.

_ Daydream _

_ I fell asleep beneath the flowers _

_ For a couple of hours _

_ On a beautiful day _

_ Daydream _

_ I dream of you amid the flowers _

_ For a couple of hours _

_ Such a beautiful day _

“I hard y’all are pretty good,” Monique says. “That’s awesome, to have something like that to share with your friends.”

“We used to play pretend when we were little,” Shay says. “Me and Mar. We’d be the Jonas Brothers.”

“The Jonas Brothers!” Monique cackles.

Shay is too warm to blush, turning her head to smile at Monique.

They’re stretched out across her bed, their fingertips just barely grazing one another. Shay thinks about how if she just rolled onto her side, Monique would be so close to her, close enough to kiss. The adrenaline from the thought courses through her and she tries to regulate her breathing by staring up at the ceiling instead. There’s a bunch of posters above Monique’s bed, mostly of Black ballerinas, DJs, and 90s hip hop groups. N.W.A. stares down at her, and she giggles back at them. The ballerinas legs are really long, their muscles corded tight. Shay wonders how easily hey could lift her.

“Probably real easy,” Monique says. “Dancers are mad strong.”

“Oh yeah,” Shay says. 

“Zoya’s been trying to get me to join her dance team,” Monique says. “But I don’t know.”

“Are you a dancer too?”

“Yeah, but not professionally or anything.”

Shay laughs. “I don’t think they’re very professional either.”

“I guess not,” Monique giggles. "But yeah, I don't know."

"Why not?"

"I like dancing," Monique says. "But I don't know if I like dancing like that."

"Like what?"

"In front of people," Monique says. “But, hey. You know what I really want right now?”

“Yes,” Shay says. 

Monique says. “Grilled cheese.”

“I’m so hungry,” Shay says.

“Wait here,” Monique shifts away, rolling off the bed. “I’m gonna make you a grilled cheese.”

Shay barely hears her as she shuffles across the room and out the door. When her phone goes off a few moments later, she barely hears it. It’s only after another ding that she pulls it out of her pocket, squinting at the screen. It’s Marlon in the groupchat.

_ Venue owner just called to reschedule. Apparently a pipe burst in the bar_.

Shay laughs again, turning the sound off and tossing her phone back down onto the bed. What is he even talking about? Shay rubs her head into the comforter, enjoying the soft cotton feeling against her shaved head and the back of her neck. She thinks about Monique dancing, wondering if she'll ever get a chance to dance with her. She's got a few moves too, though nothing special. She used to help Megan practice, a long time ago, when she was still on the Kittens. _Your rhythm's great but you gotta be __enthusiastic_, Megan would tell her. Monique probably has loads of enthusiasm. 

“Hope you like it hot,” Monique says. 

Shay rolls around until she’s sitting up, smiling dopily at Monique. She’s so cute, Shay thinks, standing there with a plateful of sandwiches. 

“That was fast,” Shay says. 

“I’ve been gone thirty minutes,” Monique laughs, hopping back on the bed. “Man, you are stoned!”

“What even did you give me,” Shay laughs. “It was so good.”

“Not as good as this,” Monique says. “Here. I made it with four cheeses and two kinds of hot sauce.”

Their fingers slide against each other from the buttery sandwich, and Shay laughs. It’s so warm and just nice, here, with Monique. She could forget about everything else, if she wanted to, just the two of them here.

She takes a bite into the sandwich, about to say as much; suddenly though, she’s not just warm. She’s on fucking fire.

“Holy shit,” Shay says, spitting out the bite of grilled cheese. 

Her nose starts to water, and she shoves the sandwich back at Monique. Monique drops her plate onto the bed, rising up to her knees to hover over Shay. Shay barely registers Monique asking if she’s okay, before a bottle of water is in her hands. Shay chugs it down, trying to find some relief from the burn. Water dribbles down her chin and onto her shirt. 

“Holy fuck,” Shay sputters. “What did you put on that?”

Monique stares at her sheepishly. “You ever seen the show _ Hot Ones_?”

“That’s literally inedible,” Shay says, right as Monique takes a huge bite.

“Oh, so you one of those Black girls, huh,” Monique says around a mouth full of melted cheese. 

“You mean one of the ones who likes my tastebuds to not be damaged permanently?” Shay asks. “Then, yeah.”

Monique laughs. “Fair point. Oh...”

“Oh?”

“My cousin said she won’t be home until like, nineish,” Monique says. “Sorry.”

Shay lays back down on the bed. “Well…”

“Well…” Monique chews. “It’s not like we can show up empty handed, right?”

“Probably not,” Shay says. "Kelsey would be big mad."

Monique says, “We should smoke some more and deliberate on it.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Shay responds. 

+++

**Friday, September 27, 5:41 PM **

_New message from: **Dingleberries**_

_[Mar]_

Venue owner just called to reschedule. Apparently a pipe burst in the bar .

_[Tyler]_

Fuck, really?

_[Mar]_

Yeah. 

Let's meet up anyway around that time to practice?

_[Tyler]_

Sounds good.

Shay, you in?

**7:30 PM**

_[Tyler] _

Shay, where you at? 

Your junior stepford meeting still happening? 

**8:09 PM**

_[Tyler]_

Shay, did you die or something?

Text yes if they've got you hostage, text no if you're just being an ass who's not looking at her phone

_[Mar]_

Ty and I are in my house, get over here asap

**9:43 PM**

_[Mar]_

Shay seriously, where are you?

_[Tyler]_

Yeah we're actually starting to get worried

**10:12 PM **

_[Tyler]_

HELLLLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

HELLLOOOOOOOOOO

HEEEEEEELLLLLOOOOOOOOOO

SHAY

**11:54 PM**

_[Mar]_

Okay, fuck it, obviously you're too busy doing whatever to answer

But next time at least try to fucking pick up your phone to let someone know where you are 

+++

**Friday, September 27, 6:09 PM **

_New message from: **Kelsey Russell **_

Hey Shay! It's Kelsey.

Just wondering where you're at, because the meeting started at 6 and you're not here yet. 

Just lmk if you're on your way or lost or something! 

** _6:30 PM_ **

Hey Shay, Kelsey again. 

Hopefully nothing bad happened, just text me when you see this.

** _7:57 PM_ **

Shay, it's Kelsey. 

Look I'm not sure what happened but it's pretty messed up to leave us all hanging. 

You missed a lot of important info so.

Text me when you get this. 

+++


	3. Reality Check

**+++**

**Saturday, September 28, 7:20 AM **

_ What you want _

_ Baby, I got it _

_ What you need _

_ Do you know I got it? _

_ All I'm askin' _

_ Is for a little respect when you get home (just a little bit) _

_ Hey baby (just a little bit) when you get home _

_ (Just a little bit) mister (just a little bit) _

_ I ain't gonna do you wrong while you're gone _

_ Ain't gonna do you wrong 'cause I don't wanna _

_ All I'm askin' _

_ Is for a little respect when you come home (just a little bit) _

_ Baby (just a little bit) when you get home (just a little bit) _

_ Yeah (just a little bit) _

Aretha is loud enough for Shay to feel the bass through the walls. 

A flash of anger boils through her as she cracks her eyes open, the sunlight streaming in through the slats of her blinds. She wants to get up and scream at her mom, ask her why the fuck it’s necessary to clean the house such a fucking ungodly hour. She groans, slapping around for the water bottle and the aspirin she left on her nightstand when she came home and crashed just a few hours ago. 

Even sitting up is a challenge, and she has to put her head in her hands for a moment to try and find equilibrium. She’s pretty sure she’s never been that high before in her life, or had that much fun, either. After taking the aspirin and gulping down her water, she grabs at her phone. She opens up Instagram, mindlessly going through everyone’s stories. Clout is up to almost a thousand followers, which she’s too hungover to really appreciate at the moment. As the images and videos blur by, she thinks back to last night.

She and Monique had stayed in her room, smoking and watching some weird dance movie. By the time her cousin had actually come home, they were both knocked out. Shay practically slept-walked to Asia’s car, half mumbling responses over the drive home. Shay tries to remember exactly what they talked about, but all she can remember is how brown Asia’s skin had seemed against her white dress. She desparetely hopes she didn’t say anything too stupid -

The sound of Monique’s voice interrupts her thoughts, and her eyes focus in on her phone. It’s Zoya’s story. 

“I’m a bad friend and I owe Zoya ten thousand man hours,” Monique’s saying directly into the camera. The video zooms too closely to her face, right onto a pimple that’s near her hairline. There seems to be a tussle of some kind, with Zoya laughing in the background. The video zooms out again, and it’s that fucking guy again. He picks Monique up and tosses her over his shoulder like she weighs nothing. The two of them laugh as he runs away, Zoya’s voice shouting that she’s not done with them yet.

Shay inhales sharply, the song pounding along to her headache. She flops back down, tossing her phone onto her pillow, not bothering to exit out of Insta. She reminds herself harshly that it doesn’t actually matter what Monique’s cousin thought of her. She can’t - fuck. 

She knows the friendzone isn’t real, that it’s just something some dudebros made up. But the fact of the matter is, she already likes Monique too much to pretend that there’s nothing between them. She’s sweet, funny, smart, everything that Shay always though she’d want in a girlfriend. But the fucking reality is that Monique already is someone’s girlfriend. And she can’t keep fucking hanging around as just a friend, praying for the bare scraps of attention Monique can give. She’s already - look. She’s already done that. She has to protect herself. 

Her phone goes off and she considers ignoring it, before she realizes it’s her ringtone and not her text notice. She frowns, wondering why the fuck she still doesn’t have her phone on silent. She glances at the screen, thinking it’s a telemarketer. Instead, a seize of panic goes through her when she sees its Tyler.

“Ty?” She grips her phone tightly, already trying to prepare herself to stand up. “Where are you? Are you ok?”

He tiredly chuckles in her ear. “Yah, I should be asking you that.”

Shay vaguely recognizes Celia Cruz in the background of Tyler’s voice and almost laughs. No wonder he’s up so early. It’s cleaning day in his house, too. Typical. Marlon never has to deal with this -

“Did you hear me?” Tyler asks.

“Uh, sorry,” Shay says. “What was that?”

Tyler says, “We texted you like ten times last night, so we could practice since the audition was called off.”

A flood of shame and awareness washes over Shay, as Marlon’s text from last night finally connects with her. Oh, fuck.

“Oh shit,” Shay says.

“Oh shit, yeah. He’s kinda pissed,” Tyler says. “Where the hell were you?”

“I...” Shay hesitates, listening to her mom singing in the next room. “It was…”

Tyler’s voice gets quiet. “Stuff with your mom?”

Shay crosses her fingers tightly, hating herself. “Yah. It was really bad last night.”

“Hospital bad?”

“No,” Shay says too quickly. “Just - you know.”

“Damn,” Tyler says. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, so I completely just forgot to check my phone,” Shay says. “I didn’t even go to that homecoming thing.”

Tyler snorts. “Yah, no shit there. Good thing you got out of that.”

“Yeah,” Shay says, trying to laugh. 

“Anyway, just text Mar so he knows you’re alive,” Tyler says. “You know how he is. He’ll understand.”

“Right,” Shay goes. “Uhm. Anyway. I gotta go.”

Tyler groans. “Me too.”

Shay collapses before her thumb can even press the red phone to hang up the call.

+++

**Sunday, September 29, 3:03 AM **

_ Day and night (what, what) _

_ I toss and turn, I keep stressing my mind, mind (what, what) _

_ I look for peace but see I don't attain (what, what) _

_ What I need for keeps this silly game we play, play _

_ Now look at this (what, what) _

_ Madness to magnet keeps attracting me, me (what, what) _

_ I try to run but see I'm not that fast (what, what) _

_ I think I'm first but surely finish last, last _

Shay chews on a hangnail, staring at the computer screen and the question in front of her. She knows she should be writing about climate change or gun control or something that actually matters, but all she can think about is Monique grinning at her, face slightly distorted by streaming sunlight and pot smoke. 

  1. _ Describe a topic, idea, or concept you find so engaging that it makes you lose all track of time. Why does it captivate you? What or who do you turn to when you want to learn more?_

She hunches down in her desk chair, the computer screen hyper bright in her pitch black room. This is the last thing she wants to be working on, and she wishes it didn’t fucking have to get done. Or that it could write itself and she could just fuck off for the rest of the year. Shay sighs, grabbing her phone again to double-check if Marlon has texted her back. _ Mar, I’m so sorry. Shit with my mom _still has a status of delivered with no fucking response. Great. She tosses her phone onto the bed and tries to turn back to her essay, but her mind is as blank as the text box in front of her. The cursor blinks at her, mocking her. 

Shay drops her head into one of her hands, before clicking away from the webpage and into Google. She hesitates for a moment, before putting "how to stop falling for straight girls_" _ into the search engine. She snorts when Autostraddle is the first thing that pops up, but clicks into the article anyway. She has to scroll through a long list of letters before she gets to the answer. 

_Maybe don’t fall in love with a straight girl._

Shay rolls her eyes and clicks on the back button, going down to an article from Pride. Her eyes skim through the first point until she sees the word “kiss.” 

_ The “signs” may well go a little further. The vodka was a-flowin', the bottle span in your direction… and suddenly her lips were on yours. But before you book the wedding and ask her who's going to spread for the turkey baster, consider the fact that most straight women have kissed a female friend without it meaning anything apart from the fact that they're either drunk, curious or – most likely – a mixture of both. _

Shay drops her head down onto the desk, not even bothering to cushion it with her hands. The dull thud against her forehead is a welcome distraction from the anxiety and pain simmering just below her ribcage. She thinks about the night Megan kissed her - her tongue tasting like beer, he hands soft on her cheeks, the shock that turned to fear and disgust and anger - and pushes her head deeper into the wood grain. As much as she wants to believe otherwise, she knows that the night before with Monique was a mistake. Because what else can it lead to, but this?

Fool me once, Shay thinks, closing her eyes against the disappointment. 

+++

**Monday, September 30, 8:49 AM **

_ I know this little girl _

_ Her name is Maxine _

_ Her beauty is _

_ Like a bunch of rose _

_ If I ever tell you 'bout Maxine _

_ You would a say _

_ I don't know what I know _

_ (But) _

_ Murder she wrote _

_ (Fi real fi real) _

_ Murder she wrote _

_ Murder she wrote _

_ Murder she wrote _

Shay stares into the disarray of her locker, trying to figure out where exactly she left her copy of _ Invisible Man _ and hoping it’s not in a laundry pile somewhere in her room. Shit. 

A loud voice clears right in her ear, and Shay winces away, almost slamming into her open locker door. She twists around to see Kelsey glaring at her. Everything about her seems inordinately angry, from the twitch of her eyebrows to the collar of her stiff Kittens jacket.

“Jesus Christ,” Shay breathes. “Can I help you?”

“I don’t know,” Kelsey says, as if she’s Shay’s English teacher. “Can you?”

“Can I?”

“Well, last time I asked you to help me with something, you completely bailed!” Kelsey says.

Her voice gets higher with each word, and Shay glances around to see if anyone else it witnessing this little scene. For some reason, that seems to only motivate Kelsey to move in closer, making Shay back up into her locker door again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring liquor to your meeting or whatever,” Shay says. “Something came up -”

“Oh, grow up Shay, this isn’t about the booze,” Kelsey says. “This is about you completely bailing on something twice, even though you made a commitment! Is that how you live your life? Just letting people down who are relying on you?”

Shay bristles. “It’s for fucking homecoming, it’s not that deep!”

“Maybe not to you, Shay,” Kelsey says. “Maybe not to you.” 

Shay swallows down the _ definitely not to me _ crawling up her throat and tries to be nice in the face of this frankly bizarre attack.

“Look, I am really sorry,” Shay says. “I just had a family thing. With my mom.”

She thinks she sees a flash of sympathy in Kelsey’s eyes, before it’s replaced with frank determination. 

“We all have things to take care of,” Kelsey says. “But you can’t just drop everything without telling someone.”

“I already said sorry -”

“Anyway,” Kelsey purses her lips. “Since you weren’t there to pick your job, we put you on the front door to take and check tickets.”

“I -” Shay stops. “Wait. What?”

“I’ll be sending out an email blast later today with all the details,” Kelsey speaks over her. “But it should be loads of fun. Sitting in front of the gym. All night long.”

Something sinks in Shay’s gut. “Uhm -”

“And,” Kelsey says, suddenly a hair’s breadth away from Shay, voice low, “I already submitted your name as someone who’s working the dance and will be receiving that extra credit for P.E. So if you don’t show up again… well… I hope you like the idea of spending every day for the rest of senior year in detention.”

Kelsey springs back so suddenly that it knocks Shay off-balance, causing her to stumble, once more, into her locker door. It clangs into the row of lockers behind her, and her sneakers squeak on the linoleum as she catches her footing. Kelsey gives her the brightest smile she’s ever seen, and twists on her heel to walk back in the opposite direct. Shay stares after her, feeling like her jaw is on the floor. 

“Can you even do that?” Shay manages to call after her. 

“Don’t tempt me!” Kelsey’s ponytail swings with a vengeance as she looks over her shoulder. “Oh, and by the way. Remember to dress on theme!”

Dumbfounded, Shay goes to turn back to her locker, when she catches a glimpse of Marlon coming down the hall. She turns to face him fully, tentatively waving at him. Her brain isn’t sure what to do, having no room between the two interactions. The panic of Kelsey’s threats feeds into the anxiety of Marlon being angry with her. 

Rather than stop to talk like usual, he just nods at her and keeps moving. Shay curses under her breath, and slams her locker closed. 

“Mar,” she says, jogging to catch up to him. “Mar, come on.”

“The bell rang already,” he says, not looking at her as he keeps going.

Shay tries to joke, “when has that ever stopped us?”

He looks at her through the corner of his eye. “I don’t know, Shay. Ever since you became Ms. Homecoming Queen, seems like this shit matters to you.”

Shay resists the urge to shove him. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

He finally stops, edging towards the wall to avoid the crush of students hurrying to get to class. Shay follows suit, trying to catch his eye to figure out where exactly his attitude is coming from. Is he that pissed that she missed a practice? At least it wasn’t the audition. 

He sighs. “I know you weren’t with your mom Friday night.”

Her heart pounds. “What?”

He finally looks at her. “My mom saw your mom at the community center, they were doing bingo night or some shit. So obviously she wasn’t at home with you during an episode.”

Shay swallows, trying not to look as panicked as she feels. Because what the fuck is she supposed to tell him? That she got too high with this girl she’s trying not to crush on, and completely forgot to check her phone? He’s staring at her with a frown on his face before he shrugs and looks down at his shoes instead. The sneakers Megan always called hideous.

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” he says finally. “Just - don’t leave us hanging next time. For the band.”

Something about it leaves a bitter taste in Shay’s mouth. “Right. The band.”

He starts to walk away, but then pauses. “Also, can you get that weed back to me? Abby’s brother managed his books or some shit and realized I didn’t give him his cut yet. I need to sell it on Sunday.”

+++

**Wednesday, October 2, 4:45 PM**

_ When the sun shines, we shine together _

_ Told you I'll be here forever _

_ Said I'll always be your friend _

_ Took an oath that I'm a stick it out 'til the end _

_ Now that it's raining more than ever _

_ Know that we still have each other _

_ You can stand under my umbrella _

_ You can stand under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh _

“Isn’t this song like ten years old,” Tyler complains, leaning back on his arms. “Why can’t they do something from this century?”

Shay snorts. “Since when do you care about the song the Kittens dance to?”

She can see hints of them through the slats in the bleachers, out on the football field. She and Tyler are hanging out underneath them, for the ambiance of it all, Tyler says. The grass is mostly clean, with just a few used condoms and wrappers littering the ground nearby. It’s way better than last year, when Shay had found a used needle. She did not want to know what the hell had been going on the game before. 

Shay folds her legs underneath her, her songwriting notebook in her lap. Her backpack sits a few feet away, holding her can of soda and her bag of chips steady and away from any bugs lurking. She taps her pen against the page, trying to figure out her next hook. Tyler rolls his eyes at her, his own notebook facedown on the grass. He stares in the direction of the Kittens through the bleacher seats. 

“It’s so dumb,” he continues, almost absent-mindedly. “Just because they’re playing the Thunder. It’s not even clever. What are they gonna do, use actual umbrellas as props too?”

This time, Shay puts her pen down completely and stares baldly at Tyler. “What.”

He glances towards her. “What, what?”

“What the hell did you just say?” she frowns at him. “How do you even know what team they’re playing?”

“How do you not know?” he smirks back. “Isn’t that like, required knowledge for homecoming committee?” 

She throws a chip at him. “Don’t turn this on me. What the fuck, Ty.”

He shrugs, almost too carelessly. “If you’re gonna date jocks, you have to at least pretend to know some shit.”

Shay raises an eyebrow. “You’re dating a jock? Since when?”

He shrugs again. “It’s not a big deal. Actually, let’s not even call it dating. It’s more like… sweaty makeouts sometime between practice and dinner with his girlfriend’s parents.”

Shay sighs at his carefully blasé voice, already gearing up for some kind of argument about it. He stares back at her baldly, like he knows what’s coming.

“Why do you keep hooking up with these jackasses, Ty?” she asks. “Come on. You deserve better than this shit.”

“Do I?” he laughs. 

She frowns at him. “Tyler.”

He says, “Shay, come on. It’s high school, nothing is supposed to be serious. You really think I’m gonna meet my soulmate in Econ? Besides, we live in the middle of Texas. Every day that someone doesn’t take me out to a cornfield and shoot me is a good day to be gay here. You know how it is.”

Shay deflates, but only slightly. She draws her knees up to her chest, looking at Tyler critically. His voice sounds so flat, almost like he’s joking. But he still won’t look at her, as if he’s afraid he’ll fall apart the moment that he does. For some reason, it makes her inordinately angry. She unfurls herself. 

“Okay, but what about her?”

He frowns at the new line of questioning. “Her, who?”

“You don’t give a fuck about his girlfriend?” She asks. “The one who’s being cheated on?”

He smiles with no humor. “What can I say, I’m a giver. If I can give him what she can’t -”

“This isn’t funny, Tyler,” she says. “You’re seriously telling me you don’t feel bad for all these girls whose boyfriends are just -”

“Slumming it with me for some gay sex?” he snaps. 

“No,” she says. “Who are just using the both of you.” 

“I’m not the one who’s doing the cheating.”

“I don’t get how you just don’t care!” she exclaims. “Don’t you remember all the shit with Megan and Marlon and Abby and that Jordan guy?”

Tyler glares at her. “Why is it always about Megan?”

It’s not something that Shay expects, and she flinches back, like Tyler’s hit her. His face is turning pink, and she realizes that he’s actually angry at her. For pushing him, maybe; making him think about all the things he doesn’t want to talk about with anyone. 

“You always manage to bring something back around to her, and what happened,” Tyler says. “Who cares about her anymore? And how dare you sit there and judge me like what you did was any better?” 

Shay’s heart pounds so face that she can barely breathe quickly enough to catch up with it. Her old guilt, buried under layers of hurt, pushes back up her chest. She can feel the old wounds, once scabbed over, start to break open again. 

“That’s not fair,” she barely whispers.

He looks abashed, at least. “I just don’t get you. What, are you still into her?”

A raucous laugh interrupts Shay’s denial, and she snaps her head to look at the source of the noise. To her surprise, it’s Zoya and Monique, passing by the back of the bleachers. They’re in full workout gear, covered from the hijabs on their heads to their running sneakers. Shay wishes that her heart didn’t quicken in anticipation the moment she catches a glimpse of Monique’s wide smile.

Monique turns her head slightly, and her smile gets impossibly wider. “Shay!”

She pauses, looking at Shay eagerly. Zoya stops as well, surprise coloring her face. She looks at Monique before slowly turning her gaze to Shay, narrowing her eyes. Monique shifts from foot to foot, like she has a lot of excess energy that she can’t seem to get rid of. Shay tries not to stare at her hips as they sway back and forth.

She fails. 

“Hey,” Shay squeaks.

Monique tilts her head. “Under the bleachers, huh? So is this where all the cool kids hang out after school?”

Zoya rolls her eyes. “Nuh-uh, girl. It’s practice time.”

Monique sighs. “Zoya -”

“You owe me,” Zoya says, raising one eyebrow. “Do you not?”

Monique makes a face that Shay can’t interpret, but then throws her another smile. “Catch you later, then.”

She gives a little wave and then keeps walking, not even waiting for Zoya. Zoya rolls her eyes and then hesitates for a moment. She swings her bag around, digging in it for something. Shay darts a glance at Tyler. He’s staring back at her with a look of confusion and suspicion on his face. 

“Here,” Zoya says, pulling something out of her bag.

A shot of panic goes through Shay. “Zoya, what the -“

Zoya tosses something to her. Shay has to lunge to the left to catch it, almost landing flat on her face in the grass. Once it’s in her hands, she realizes it’s not the dime bag. Instead, it's some kind of hard plastic index card case. She stares at it, not even knowing what to make of this. She pops it open, and then promptly almost drops it. Nestled between a rainbow of index cards is the weed. 

“I forgot to give you them in class,” Zoya says, slinging her bag back onto her back. “But there. That should help you for our test. Just copy them and give them back to me tomorrow.”

Shay hastily closes it again. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Zoya nods at her. “See you around.”

She stalks off in the direction Monique left in. A few moments later, Shay hears a chorus of hellos, and the sound of friends hugging and talking all at once. Shay reaches for her bag, almost knocking over her soda in her haste to shove the index card case inside.

“What was that?” Tyler asks.

Shay shrugs. “You know we’re in the same Gov section. I’m just… borrowing her notes.”

Tyler frowns at her. “You? Borrow someone else’s notes?”

The lie rolls off Shay’s tongue too easily. “It’s been rough recently, you know. Haven’t been able to focus on school as much.”

She knows he doesn’t buy it at all, but something stops him from pressing her about it. Maybe it’s a silent apology for the way they both came at each other not ten minutes ago. Shay keeps her eyes lowered, wishing she could just go to her bed and hide under her covers. 

+++

**Thursday, October 3, 1:13 PM**

Shay draws one knee up, resting her sneaker on the chair beneath her. Mrs. Mendoza noisily chews on some hard candy as she goes over Shay’s school file, making soft humming sounds ever few minutes. They’ve barely said two words since she was called out of Calculus to go over her college applications, and Shay’s starting to think it would’ve been worth it to just stay in class. 

“You sure you don’t want a candy?” Mrs. Mendoza asks, gesturing to the bowl on her desk. “I brought them from Mindanao. Oh, it’s so nice going home during summer break.”

“No thank you,” Shay says for the tenth time. 

Mrs. Mendoza shrugs, then places Shay’s file down in front of her. She stares at Shay carefully, still chewing on the hard candy as she does. Shay looks back at her blankly. 

“Your academics are outstanding, of course,” Mrs. Mendoza says. “Nearly perfect score on your SATs, 4.0 GPA, higher with all the A.P. classes you’re in.”

“Yeah.”

“I won’t give you my extracurriculars speech again, because I can see it has had no affect on you since the first time we met in April,” Mrs. Mendoza says. “So.”

“So.”

“What do you want, Shay?” Mrs. Mendoza asks. “Where would you like to go to nurture that want?”

Shay shrugs. “It’s not like I can afford -”

“There’s hundreds of scholarships and grants if you just apply to them,” Mrs. Mendoza says. “Plus, loans. Let’s face it, your whole generation is gonna be bogged down by them anyway. Might as well apply now and then pay them off twenty-five dollars at a time for the rest of your life. Unless, of course, Warren or Sanders wins the election next year. Then you might have a chance at homeownership.”

Shay stares at her, not sure if she’s trying to be relateable or just realistic. Mrs. Mendoza just gazes back at her, her brown face giving away nothing that she could be thinking. Shay shrugs back at her, because it doesn’t even matter anyway. She’ll have to stay somewhere close to home for her mom, and then there’s the band. It’s not like Marlon or Tyler are thinking of leaving either. And what the fuck, she’s seventeen. Why is she supposed to have this big existential clue about what the hell she wants with her life?

“You’re almost done with your common app, besides your essay,” Mrs. Mendoza says. “But I see the only school you’ve put down is UTA.”

“Okay?”

“You’ll have no problem getting in,” Mrs. Mendoza says, “Hell, if Laura Bush got in you can get in. But I have a feeling you only chose it because it’s easy.”

“Aren’t we supposed to have safety schools?”

Mrs. Mendoza purses her lips, then relaxes them. “Shay, do you even want to go to college?”

“Yeah, of course,” Shay says without thinking.

“Do you?” Mrs. Mendoza squints at her. “Cause I don’t think you do, or else you’d be making an actual effort into your future. You’re just coasting. And that’s not okay with me. Look, you can go to trade school or work or -”

“Go into the military?”

Mrs. Mendoza looks horrified. “Oh God no. Have you not been listening to my lectures of how the ongoing imperialism and militarization of the United States in the two-thirds world has -”

“Just been leading to this country using Black and brown children as canon fodder in the name of an inherently racist nationalism,” Shay mutters. “Yeah, yeah, I haven’t forgotten that lecture yet.”

Mrs. Mendoza smiles with relief. “Good, good. So what I was going to say is get an internship or go to L.A. or New York with your band.”

“Huh.”

“Those are still the hot spots for new musicians looking to find themselves a record deal, right?” Mrs. Mendoza frowns thoughtfully. “Though for the hip hop scene I suppose you can make the argument that since the late 1990s, the South and areas of the midwest like Detroit or Chicago have been hotbeds of activity for -”

Shay clears her voice loudly, waiting for Mrs. Mendoza to get to the point. 

“Anyway, where was I?” Mrs. Mendoza nods to herself. “Right. Sometimes your road is circuitous. Look at me. I came to the States to start at Yale, left halfway through my first semester to do community organizing, and only went back to school at twenty five.”

“Okay…”

Mrs. Mendoza steeples her fingers. “I don’t like to bullshit my students, Shay. And I don’t like to see them bullshit themselves. And I know if I push you today for more, that’s exactly what you’ll give me.”

“Bullshit?”

“Watch your language,” she says. “So. Write your essay and write a plan. When we meet again I want you to have an idea of what exactly you’re interested in. Not what’s safe, not what you feel like you have to do. What you want. I’ll email you some listicles that might help.”

Shay tried to hide her groan with a cough, earning her a disapproving look. She shrugs back, standing up to go back to class. 

“And Shay?”

Shay pauses, staring down at Mrs. Mendoza. Mrs. Mendoza pops another hard candy into her mouth, regarding Shay thoughtfully.

“If you could help spread the word that the next person who tries to write their essay about September 11th will be permanently banned from my office?” she crunches. “That would be great.”

“What?”

“To an extent it makes sense why some of your peers may talk about the sociopolitical implications of 9/11 and how it personally affected them as Arab or Muslim people,” Mrs. Mendoza concedes. “But for these white kids? What could have possibly been emotionally traumatizing about something that happened when they were one years old? They can’t possibly remember watching this on television! Please!” 

Shay doesn’t know what to do with that, so she just leaves. 

+++

**Friday, October 4, 10:45 PM**

It’s an unwritten rule that they get all their equipment back into Marlon’s truck before celebrating. 

Shay waits until the trunk slams shut before she jumps up into the air, whooping in delight. Marlon yells triumphantly behind her, and Tyler claps his hands together. They’re all sweaty and tired, after thirty minutes of playing their songs for the bar owner, him smiling and nodding along to all their shit. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t confirm anything with them yet, they were so good, so amazingly good, and she knows it. They all know it. She rubs at the back of her shirt, sweat dripping down her back.

“We fucking killed it,” Marlon grins. 

“Even if we didn’t, it’s not like anyone else is gonna be clamoring for the Thursday night spot,” Tyler jokes.

Shay slugs him in the shoulder. “Nah, we killed it.”

Marlon’s phone goes off, and Shay lets the euphoria wash over her as he checks his messages. She leans against the car door, staring back up at the bar. Sure, it’s a dingey place on the other side of town, but this could be there first real, consistent gig, where they’d actually get paid. Plus, it’s on a pretty busy street. Maybe their music will pull in some new fans, Shay thinks as she smiles at a group of people she thinks are in their mid-twenties heading inside. 

“You guys mind if we wait a bit?” Marlon asks. “I got a pick up coming.”

Shay almost doesn’t process what he says, but then Tyler makes a strange noise.

“Bro, in the middle of the street?” he shakes his head.

Marlon shrugs. “What? It’s not like anything will happen.”

“Dude!” Shay exclaims.

“What?” he shrugs at her. “Look, I got to sell this shit fast, remember? If you hadn’t kept forgetting it in your house, I could’ve just done this in school.”

“I’m -” Shay rolls her eyes.

Marlon’s phone goes off again. “Oh, cool. He’s down the block. Wait here a minute.”

He jogs down the street, seemingly nonplussed to Shay’s and Tyler’s stuttered objections. Tyler mutters something about stupid druggies, and just gets into the backseat of the car, slamming the door hard behind him. Shay shakes her head, about to round the truck to get into the passenger side. She glances both ways so she doesn’t open the door into upcoming traffic, but then someone catches her eye. 

_Pull up your pants (just like 'em)_

_Take out the trash (just like 'em)_

_Gettin' your cash like 'em_

_Fast like 'em_

_Girl, you wanna act like he did (I'm talkin' 'bout)_

_Security codes on everything_

_On vibrate so your phone don't ever ring_

_Joint account and another one he don't know about (hey)_

It’s that guy - the one who’s dating Monique - standing right outside a Mexican food spot across the street. He’s on his phone grinning down at it, but doesn’t seem to be going anywhere in particular. Shay’s heart starts pounding painfully as she realizes he’s probably waiting for Monique to come out of the restaurant. 

She wants to turn around before he notices some stranger staring at him; she wants to hop into the car and slouch down low and never see this guy again. But all she can do is press herself against the truck as traffic passes between them, her eyes trained on his face. The door to the restaurant opens, and a pretty Black girl with dreadlocks comes out. Shay breathes a short-lived sigh of relief, an anxious burn festering right below her breastbone. She’s about to train her eye back to this guy, the one who’s not even her competition, because who is she, really, in comparison?

_Wish_ _ we could switch up the roles and I could be that _

_ Tell you I love you, but when you call, I never get back _

_ Would you ask them questions like me, like where you be at? _

_ 'Cause I'm out, four in the morning on the corner, rolling, doing my own thing _

But then the girl walks right up to him, poking him in the ribcage and laughing. He turns to her fully, a wide grin on his face. Then, he leans in close to her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her on the lips. 

Shay sucks in a pained breath, unable to look away. 

+++ 

**Saturday, October 5, 11:20 PM **

_ Ayy, Panini, don't you be a meanie _

_ Thought you wanted me to go up _

_ Why you tryna keep me teeny? I _

_ It's a dreamy, wished it on a genie _

_ I got fans finally, ain't you wanting them to see me? I _

_ I thought you want this for my life, for my life _

_ Said you wanted to see me thrive, you lied _

_ Just say to me, what you want from me _

_ Just say to me, what you want from me _

Kelsey told Shay that the theme is, “the heat is on!” but what Shay thinks that really means is “tacky 1980’s Florida vice detective show in neon.” With a plain white t-shirt and black and white track pants, she’s not exactly on theme, but Kelsey had just fashioned some bendy glowsticks into bracelets and a crown and shoved them onto Shay earlier. Although she’s stationed outside of the gym, she keeps getting flashes of blacklight and glow-in-the-dark decorations every time someone comes running in or out. Even though homecoming has long started, and should be winding down soon, she’s still stuck at the ticket table with Nik and Emma, one of the freshman Kittens. With her phone dying twenty minutes earlier and no portable charger, she’s mostly stuck listening to their conversation on music.

“I mean, I just think it’s so cool that Lil Nas X felt comfortable enough in his own skin to like, come out,” Emma says. “I mean, I don’t know why he had to hide it, cause it’s 2019, hello. But it’s really cool.”

“Huh,” Nik says.

“You know? Especially being a...” Emma hesitates, her eyes darting from Nik to Shay. 

“A Black man?” Nik asks.

“Yeah, that,” Emma says. “And the African American community being so… you know…”

Nik says wryly, “excluded from the country genre, despite the fact that it was created by Black artists?”

“Oh um, yeah, I guess,” she says, looking slightly mortified. 

Shay has to bite down on her tongue to keep from laughing, exchanging an amused glance with Nik. It reminds her of History class last year. They always, somehow, managed to be the two Black people in the room who overheard the ridiculous things white people said. He always understood the looks that she would throw him, and then always managed to laugh or brush it off later.

Shay studies the side of his face as he says something to make Emma relax. Shay half-heartedly wishes she was as chill or understanding as Nik always seems to be. All evening, she’s been reminded of why she even dated him in the first place, despite not being attracted to men. He was just… nice.

“I mean, but I love gay people,” Emma says. “And it’s totally cool that we’re all more accepting of them. Of course it’s not perfect, but like. It’s getting so much better.”

Shay’s pretty sure Nik’s wry sarcasm goes over her head when he says, “Right, like with Lil Nas X.”

“Exactly!” Emma beams. “Or like, how Taylor had all those gay people in her music video? You know the, ‘You Need to Calm Down?’”

Shay chokes on her own spit.

“It was really brave of her,” Emma says. “And as a straight Caucasian woman, it really showed me how to be a true ally.”

“God help me,” Shay mutters.

Emma peers at her. “Huh? What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Anyway there were all these theories going around about ‘Gaylor,’ but I think she’s just a really good person, not like, a bisexual or anything,” Emma says. 

Shay knocks her thighs against the table and she jumps out of her chair. Emma startles, as the table shakes. Her hand immediately goes to her can of soda to stop it from tipping over. Nik glances up and gives Shay a bemused grin. Shay clears her throat.

“I gotta - you know. Gotta pee,” she says, the irony not lost on her.

Emma shrugs. “Okay.”

Shay walks away from the table briskley, deciding to go around through the back entrance rather than in the front of the gym. If she can avoid her sweaty classmates making out with each other on the dance floor, she’ll take the long way around. 

She winces slightly, pausing in her step as she thinks about what she saw yesterday, because fuck. She’s not sure what to do in this situation at all. Guilt settles low in her gut as she thinks about the last time she meddled in something like this, even though it was for very different reason. Monique obviously deserves better than to be with a cheater, but… what, is she gonna be that girl, the one who keeps breaking up people’s relationships? 

She stops just a few feet away from the backdoor, leaning against the bricks of the building and tilting her head upward. It’s not her place to say anything, she realizes. She doesn’t know Monique and her boyfriend the way she knew Megan and Marlon. And even if she did… how… how can she even trust herself that it’s for a good, moral reason?

She thinks about sophomore year, how confused and sad she was all the time. The way Megan had trusted her, the small, small bit of hope when she thought it was Josefina that Megan had kissed… then the crashing weight and desperate pressure of keeping this secret, of trying not to slip up even as she hoped it meant she and Marlon would break up… because she loved Marlon, but she just couldn’t understand. Why him? And yes, it was about why not her, but it was also about why stay with someone who made you feel like shit? Why hold on to something so tightly until it was ruined? And then how everything just… escalated. Her anger, her confusion, her disbelief. Her disgust, at herself. She barely remembers the time between telling Abby and having Megan weeping in her arms.

The backdoor opens with a bang, and Shay pushes herself off of the building. Grace, Josefina and Megan are hauling huge trashbags bags behind them, laughing and talking all at once. Jo also seems to be wearing one of the trashbags over her neon green dress. Shay watches them go to the dumpster, sorting and throwing the bags inside. Megan turns once she’s finished; her face lights up when she spots Shay.

“Hey,” Megan calls out across the gap. 

Shay watches as Jo and Grace turn, waving to her as well. Shay winces, wondering how bad it looks that she’s lurking in the shadows instead of out on her post, or whatever. The three walk over to her, and she internally sighs, trying to brace herself for a lecture from Grace. Once they’re in front of her, though, Grace smiles. 

She says, “Thank God that’s over.”

“I don’t even care that we’re still on clean-up duty,” Jo agrees. “It was way too dark and smelly in there.”

“How was it outside?” Megan asks.

Shay looks at the three of them, trying to figure out exactly what is going on. “Uhm. Fine.”

Grace nods back at her. “Okay. Well, you know, if you want to get out of here, you’re free to go. I’ll mark you off my list, or whatever.”

It surprises Shay. “Oh. Okay?”

Jo grins. “Don’t be scared, Kelsey totally can’t blackmail you or whatever it was that she said to get you to show up.”

That actually makes Shay laugh, and Jo and Grace smile at her before they head inside. Megan hangs back for a moment, smiling tentatively.

“Sorry we didn’t really get to talk tonight,” Megan says. “Kesley had me on punchbowl duty.”

Shay’s about to ask her why she’s sorry, but frowns instead. “Punchbowl duty?”

Megan groans. “Making sure no one spiked any of the drinks.”

Shay snorts. “Do people actually still do that?”

“Not on my watch,” Megan smiles. “I guess it’s kind of ironic. You know.”

Shay’s not sure what to say to that, and an awkward silence falls between them. Shay recognizes the look on Megan’s face, where she’s berating herself for saying something so dumb. It’s the one thing that has always gotten to Shay, even long after her crush faded. 

“So, you guys all have to stay to clean up, too?” Shay asks. 

Megan smiles dryly, as if she knows what Shay’s doing. “Yeah, it was this whole thing. Because it’s an extra school event, the custodians would’ve had to come in tomorrow, on their day off, and then that was an issue because of their contract or whatever, that they wouldn’t actually get paid to do it… so Jo proposed we just do it ourselves. We’re the ones who wanted it, anyway.”

“Oh,” Shay blinks. “That’s… actually really cool of you guys.”

Megan shrugs. “It was the right thing to do. Anyway.”

“Yeah,” Shay pauses. “Well… do you guys need… extra help?”

Megan waves at her. “No, it’s cool. You should go home. You didn’t even want to be here in the first place.”

Shay grimaces. “Yeah but… I’m not an asshole.”

Megan looks at her for a moment, and then huffs out a laugh. “Alright, but once you go back in, there’s no coming out until we’re done. Not if Kelsey catches you helping.”

Shay laughs at that too. “I think I can manage.”

_ This maybe the night that my dreams might let me know _

_ All the stars are closer, all the stars are closer, all the stars are closer _

_ This maybe the night that my dreams might let me know _

_ All the stars are closer, all the stars are closer, all the stars are closer _

She finds herself in the bathroom, a legion of half-drunk soda cans, bowls of punch, and buckets of melting ice in front of her. Megan swiftly deposited her in there, asking her to empty everything out so that they can recycle the cans and clean out the bowls and buckets. Shay glances at herself in the mirror, wondering if being an asshole wouldn’t have been the right choice after all. She sighs, picking up two cans at a time and pouring them down the sink.

The bathroom door swings open, and Shay glances up through the mirror. Her heart stutters when she sees Monique standing there, her hair wrapped in the same fabric as her dress, white with yellow and pink geometric prints. She’s rolling a recycling trash can in; there’s a wad of blue plastic bags shoved under her armpit. Shay smiles at the clear plastic fanny pack wrapped around her waist. 

“Hey,” she grins, coming into the bathroom. “Megan sent me in here to help you.” 

Shay tries to smile back at her, but a glance into the mirror tells her she’s failed. Monique doesn’t seem to notice.

“So you got roped into clean up duty too, huh?” she laughs. “I swear, Zoya is gonna own my ass for the rest of my life.”

That does make a small smile bloom on Shay’s face. She continues pouring out soda, tossing the empty cans into the trash can, a question bubbling up in her. She hesitates for a moment, watching Monique start to grab some cans, too.

“How do you and Zoya even know each other?” she finally asks. “It seems like you’ve been friends for a long time.”

Monique says, “Oh, we have. We grew up together. Me, Zoya, a whole bunch of us. Her twin, Sekou, is my best friend.”

Shay’s eyebrows shoot up. “Zoya has a twin?”

Monique smiles. “Twin brother, yeah. Fraternal.”

“I didn’t know that,” Shay says.

“I don’t think her friends did, either,” Monqieu snorts. “That’s Zoya. Queen of compartmentalizing.” 

“He doesn’t go to this school, does he?” Shay doesn’t think she’s seen anyone that looks like Zoya running around, to be honest.

“Hah! No, if he did, she definitely should be recruited into the CIA,” Monique says. “Or, you know. Something less horrible than the CIA.”

“Right.”

“No, he goes to Central,” Monique says. “That’s where I transferred from. All my friends are still there, which sucks.”

Shay thinks about how lonely she’d be without Ty and Marlon. “Damn.”

“Yeah. I really don’t know how Zoya survived before she met Jo and them. She -” Monique pauses for a moment. “Well. That’s not really my thing to talk about.”

Monique’s phone goes off and she pulls it out her fanny pack, chuckling when she sees the screen. Shay tries not to watch Monique as she types out a reply, and then places her phone on the counter among the soda cans. Shay glances down; her phone is still open, the wallpaper showing on her screen. It’s a photo of Monique, the boyfriend, and a bunch of other people, some sandy beach as the background. Shay turns her away, not wanting to be caught snooping. She has to swallow down a dry lump in her throat as Monique’s phone goes off again. 

She can’t help herself from asking, “Does your boyfriend go there too?”

Monique stops pouring soda, looking back at her. “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Shay says, her face growing warm. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Monique says slowly. “Wh - did Zoya tell you that I did?”

She sounds borderline angry and Shay stutters, shaking her head no. If she was smart, she’d probably lie and say she thought she heard something about a boyfriend, or that she was just making a dump assumption. But Monique has a look on her face that she thinks might take more convincing then that; so Shay goes for the most embarrassing option of all.

The truth.

“I, uhm… I saw,” Shay mumbles. “On Zoya’s Instagram. That one photo.”

Monique looks astonished. “What one photo?”

Shay wants to mumble, but instead she looks Monique square in the eyes. “You know, ‘the happy couple.’ You guys look good together.”

Monique stares at her for a long moment, before picking her phone up again. Shay stands there awkwardly as she starts clicking around and then scrolling, wondering if she’s being dismissed for being an Insta stalker or something. She’s about to open her mouth to apologize, when Monique is shoving her phone in Shay’s face. Up on the screen, it’s the photo of her and her boyfriend.

“This one?” Monique asks. “This photo?”

Shay bats Monique’s hand away. “Dude.”

“Sorry,” Monique lowers her phone. “Girl. That’s Sekou.”

A queasy feeling latches onto Shay’s insides. “Zoya’s brother?”

“Yes,” Monique emphasizes. “And my best friend.”

Shay has the feeling that she’s missing something here. Monique stares at her expectantly, as if she’s supposed to be doing something other than just staring at her. Maybe congratulate her for dating her best friend? The thought of it makes her even more sick, when she thinks about what she saw the day before. God, what a fucking asshole - 

Monique makes an impatient noise. “I’m not dating Sekou.”

Shay suddenly doesn’t know what to do with her hands. “Oh.”

“We’ve known each other since we were like, three,” Monique says. “It’s - like, have you ever wanted to date your friend Marlon?”

Shay actually laughs, a noise that’s half relief, half disgust. “Oh, God no.”

“It’s the same with us,” Monique says. “I’m not interested in him, at all. Not like that.”

“Oh,” Shay says faintly. “Oh.”

“Yeah. No boyfriend.” Monique says, then pauses pointedly. “No girlfriend. No anybody.” 

Shay picks up a soda can and then holds it in her hand, hovering just a few inches above the sink. She doesn’t dare glance at Monique through the mirror above them, wondering exactly what the other girl must be thinking. She can’t even believe that they’re having this conversation, or that she’s completely embarrassed herself. But… there’s also something small, something precious, blossoming up in her. It feels something like hope. Because not only is Monique single, she’s making kind of a big deal about being single. 

Right?

Shay opens her mouth, but then pauses, her brain going back over the conversation. She places the soda can back on the counter, and finally looks at Monique through the mirror. She’s already staring back at her, something anxious quickly passing over her face. Monique inhales sharply; Shay watches as her reflection turns towards Shay.

“You know, I…” Monique swallows. “I tried to look for you on Instagram. But you’re kinda hard to find. Just a Soundcloud link and an empty profile.”

Shay’s heart pounds against her rib cage, so hard that she’s sure Monique can see the movement beneath her shirt. Her fist clenches on the soda can before she releases it, finally turning to face Monique fully. Her dark eyes track over Shay’s face, and it’s almost painful to see the same kind of vulnerability mirrored in them that Shay feels is leaking from her pores. Shay’s not sure when they’ve gotten so impossibly close, but she can trace the streaks of Monique’s makeup and all the folds of her head-wrap. 

“It’s kind of not fair,” Monique says. “I haven’t been able to stalk you to see if you’re single or not.”

Shay doesn’t think Monique meant that to sound as funny as it does, but suddenly they’re both smiling dopily at each other. It’s probably the most corny thing that Shay’s heard in a while, but it’s helped to break the tension between them. Shay shifts, feeling utterly aware of herself in proximity to Monique, but not nearly as stiff as she felt before. It’s just… easy. Their heads are bowed close together, and it would only take one of them to make the slightest movement for this lips to brush. Shay's eyes trace the details of Monique's face, from her full lips up towards her impossibly dark eyes.

"I..."

"Monique, do you have the recycling bags?"

The bathroom door bangs open, startling both of them away from each other. Shay turns rapidly, picking up one of the soda cans in an effort to appear natural. She peeks up at the mirror, seeing Zoya's reflection, standing there with her hand out. Monique's in the process of turning fully to face Zoya, so Shay has no idea what kind of look is on her face. She can only hope that Zoya doesn't glance at her in the mirror and see how her cheeks have colored in embarrassment. 

Monique sighs. "Here."

Zoya grabs the bags from her with a groan. "Thank god. If we had run out, Kelsey would've made me go get some new ones."

"Why is it that 'no' only seems to be in your vocabulary when it comes to me?" Monique mumbles. 

Zoya gives her a pointed look. "Don't you even start with me."

"Girl, bye," Monique says.

Zoya finally looks towards Shay; Shay pretends she's not already staring at her in the mirror.

"Thanks for the extra help, Shay," she says. "It was real cool of you."

"Yeah, no problem," Shay says, hoping her voice doesn't sound too weird. 

Zoya nods once more, before turning and leaving the bathroom. The door closes behind her with a resounding thud. Shay peeks at Monique through the mirror again. She slowly turns around before hesitating. For a moment, Shay's heart soars; then it crashes back down as Monique sighs, picking up some more soda cans to pour down the sink.

"What were we talking about?" Monique asks, not looking over at Shay.

"Uhm, Instagram," Shay says. "And, you know, you can always... add my band."

It sounds corny even as she says it, but the magic of the moment has somehow disappeared.

Monique laughs like Shay's actually hilarious. “Hopefully you won’t make me have to compete with all your other groupies.”

“Nah,” Shay says, a small smile blossoming on her face in response. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

+++


	4. The Golden Rule

**Sunday, October 6, 11:47 AM  
**

_ Suddenly I just gotta say _

_ You make me wanna sing another love song _

_ Loud enough for everybody to hear _

_ You make me wanna sing another love song _

_ And it started from the day you appeared _

_ You make me wanna sing, ooh _

_ You make me wanna sing, ooh _

_ Girl, you make me wanna sing _

_ You make me wanna sing another love song _

“I just don’t think it makes sense for you to hold the note that long,” Tyler argues. “It takes away from the instrumentals because all we can hear is you.”

“No, the vocals are complimentary,” Marlon argues. “When the whole thing comes together, you’ll be able to hear it.”

“But we’re doing it now, and I’m hearing it now, and all it is is your voice,” Tyler says. “Shay, what do you think?”

Shay looks up at the sound of her name, pen stopping on her page. She tries to stop herself from smiling dopily, still caught up in the sweet euphoria of the night before. Nothing had happened, exactly. She and Monique has finished emptying the soda cans and punch bowls and cleaned up. But… there was something. 

Tyler grimaces at her. “Where are you?”

“What do you mean?” 

Marlon peers at her suspiciously. “You’ve been all… I don’t know. All air-headed.”

Shay’s spine straightens. “What?”

Tyler snatches her notebook out of her hand, and shows the pages back at her. Shay tried to lunge at him to get it back, but he trips out of her way. 

“Look at this,” he says. “It’s just a bunch of scribbles and doodles.”

“Shay, are you high?” Marlon looks concerned. “Like, it’s fine, but we said we wouldn’t smoke before practice -”

Shay snatches her notebook out of Tyler’s hands, frowning at them both. “I’m not high! Okay. I just… I had a good night yesterday.”

They both blink at her, and then burst into laughter.

“At the dance?” Marlon gwafs. “Good one.”

“Right, did you drink some punch and then slow dance with your crush from study hall?” Tyler snarks.

Shay presses her lips together, listening to them make fun of her. A sour feeling crawls up her throat like she has to puke, and she rocks back, surprised by the vitriol of the emotion. For a moment, she’s reminded of all the times Marlon used to make fun of Abby, and then Megan, for their dance teams. 

“Why is it always a joke to y’all?” She finally interrupts them. “Yeah, homecoming is stupid. But at least people are spending time doing something they care about.”

“I mean, yah, but it’s stupid,” Marlon says, raising his eyebrows. “It’s not like they’re doing anything creative or good for anyone else.”

“Oh, like us with our garage band?” Shay shoots back.

As soon as it’s out of her mouth, she regrets it. Tyler raises his eyebrow at her and Marlon just stares back at her, disbelief all over his face. Shay crosses her arms over her chest, glancing away. 

“I need a break,” she mutters. “Let’s take five.”

She turns on her heel to go back into the house, just wanting to grab a water or get out the garage. She thinks she hears Marlon ask what’s up with her, but decides not to engage with it. Fuck. She doesn’t know why she’s so mad at them, because she agrees. Stuff like homecoming is stupid, and what they’re doing with their music is different. But somehow it feels more personal now; it’s not something that she can just laugh at too, let it roll off her back. There’s something just petty about their jokes, something that’s nagging her. She clenches her jaw and really wonder how Megan took this shit. Maybe it was easier because she had Shay. 

_ Every now and then, I get a little crazy, _

_ That's not the way it's supposed to be _

_ Sometimes my vision is a little hazy, _

_ I can't tell who I should trust or just who I let trust me, yeah _

_ People try to say I act a little funny, _

_ But that's just a figure of speech to me _

_ They tell me I changed because I got money, _

_ But if you were there before, _

_ Then you're still down with me _

_ What about your friends, will they stand their ground, _

_ Will they let you down again? _

_ What about your friends, are they gonna be lowdown, _

_ Will they ever be around, _

_ Or will they turn their backs on you? _

“Shay!” 

Shay almost barrels right into Mrs. Frazier as she snatches the door open. Shay puts her arms up immediately to stop her armful of potted plants from tumbling out and all over the floor. Mrs. Frazier laughs as if it’s all her fault, and moves to set them down on the floor. Shay tries not to grumble and steps back as Mrs. Frazier perches on the couch, looking at Marlon eagerly. 

“You three still at it, huh?” she asks, pushing her sunglasses up into her curly brown hair.

Shay smiles. “Yup. You know us.”

“Yeah, mom, and we’re kinda busy, so -” Marlon tries to say. 

“You know, I wish you spent as much time on your college applications as you do playing around back here,” Mrs. Frazier says with a world-weary sigh. “I bet Shay and Tyler here have already finished theirs.”

An awkward silence descends on them; Shay thinks of the three sentences she’s written on her common app essay and says nothing. Tyler clears his throat, but ultimately remains silent.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Mrs. Frazier smiles. “Alright. I’m just saying, Wesleyan won’t wait forever for that early decision application.” 

“Mom!”

Mrs. Frazier holds up her hands placatingly. “Alright, enough time of me harassing you, I get it. I’ll see you two later, Shay, Tyler. Be sure to stay for dinner sometime, okay? Can’t let your parents thinking I just send you home every time you get hungry.”

Mrs. Frazier leans back down to pick up her plants, exiting through the open garage door. Shay waits until she can’t hear Mrs. Frazier humming anymore, before she swirls to give Marlon a death glare. Tyler is already looking at him, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“Wesleyan?” Shay bursts out. “Like, across the country Wesleyan?”

Marlon opens his mouth and closes it like a fish. 

“Bro, are you serious?” Tyler asks. “Please tell me that’s a joke.”

Marlon mutters something about social justice-oriented curriculum, but doesn’t deny it. 

Shay says, “what happened to us all going to State together so that we could continue with our music? What happened to moving to L.A. in a couple of years, together, after we’ve established ourselves? Fucking Christ, Wesleyan?”

“That’s still my first plan!” Marlon bursts out. “But like… yeah. Maybe we also need to talk about our futures and stuff.”

“And stuff,” Tyler says blandly.

“It’s not bad to have another plan,” Marlon says. “Fuck - Shay, isn’t that what you were saying, that Kelsey maybe had a point?”

“Oh, so now you wanna take Kelsey’s advice?” Shay says incredulously. “And since when does that include lying to us?”

“Don’t you think that’s the pot calling the kettle black?” Marlon shoots back.

Shay raises her eyebrows. “Yo, excuse me?”

“Mar, just - shut up,” Tyler says, waving his hand. “Come on.”

“Come on what?”

Tyler’s face sets. “Is this even about you? Or is this about Megan? Again?”

Shay stares between the two of them, absolutely confused as to how the conversation has twisted and turned so many times. She watches as Marlon’s face turns slightly pink, his mouth pinching like he’s tasted something sour. Tyler stands there with his spine stiff, eyes only focuses on Marlon. Shay has the distinct feeling that she’s missing something really fucking major.

“What does Wesleyan have to do with Megan?” she finally asks. 

Tyler doesn’t take his gaze off of Marlon. “The other day, I was stuck behind her and Jo in the hallway, and I heard them talking about next year. Megan was saying she wants to go to the Northeast, maybe to a small school. Something like Sarah Lawrence. Or like Wesleyan.”

Marlon squares his jaw. “It’s not about Megan. Not everything is about her.”

It’s about the least convincing thing Shay’s ever heard Marlon say, and Tyler evidently thinks so too.

“Oh, fucking -” Tyler throws his hands in the air. “Marlon, when are you gonna just stop it with her? Seriously, all the bullshit she’s put you through, has any of it even been worth it? And now you’re following her across the country, as if - come on, as if she can even get into a school like that? She’s not the brightest bulb in the shed!”

“Hey!”

The exclamation comes out of both Shay’s and Marlon’s mouth, and Shay feels herself getting heated all over again. 

“Tyler,” Shay says warningly.

Tyler turns his head, eyes cutting. “Yeah, of course you would still be defending her, too.”

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Shay finds herself yelling. “God, could you stop being a jackass for one minute?” 

Shay’s voice gets so loud that she barely recognizes it herself. It’s only after she feels her fingernails biting into her palms that she even realizes how tightly she’s clenching her fists. A look of shock passes over Tyler’s face, as if he didn’t think she would be truly angry at what he had just said. With a glance over to Marlon, Shay realizes he has the same kind of look on his face. In all the times that they’ve teased too hard or had petty fights, she’s never raised her voice at them, not like that. The slight fear and confusion that she sees in Marlon’s eyes feel like a condemnation. It reminds her of the spring, when she yelled at Grace Olsen. It makes her feel like shit for just… defending herself.

Marlon is the first to break the silence. “Maybe we should stop for today.”

Shay glares at the spot between his eyebrows. “Fine.”

She grabs her notebook and storms out of the garage, feeling the burn of their eyes on her back as she goes. 

+++

**Monday, October 7, 12:01 PM **

_ Okay, okay, okay, okay _

_ Okay, okay, oh _

_ You live in my dream state _

_ We're lowkey my fantasy _

_ I stay in reality _

_ You live in my dream state _

_ Any time I count sheep _

_ That's the only time we make up, make up _

_ You exist behind my eyelids, my eyelids _

_ Now I don't wanna wake up _

Shay skulks to her locker, her hoodie pulled low over her head. She still hasn’t talked to Marlon or Ty, though she knows everything will be fine once she does. It always is. But for some reason today, she just feels like shit, and doesn’t really feel like engaging with them. As she spins her lock open, she contemplates hiding out in the library or the girl’s bathroom for lunch. 

“Hey.”

Shay looks up to see Monique smiling at her, looking a bit nervous. Despite her bad mood, Shay finds herself smiling back. She rubs the back of her head through her hoodie, feeling slightly shy.

“Hey,” Shay says. “How was your Sunday?”

Monique visibly relaxes. “It was cool. There was this like, women in Islam event that Zoya’s mom organized? So that was awesome.”

“Oh,” Shay says. “That’s… cool.”

Monique grins. “It was really good. One of my favorite things about this mosque is the community aspect of it. Everyone is welcome.”

“Oh,” Shay repeats herself.

“Also, the imam sells the best weed I’ve ever smoked,” she says.

Shay almost chokes on her tongue. “What?”

“Yeah, he grows it in his backyard,” Monique says. “You’ve seen the movie _ How High_? Weed like that.”

Shay stares at her. “Isn’t that the movie with Method Man where they -”

“Yup,” Monique says gravely. “Just like that. The process to do it is actually in the Quran and everything.”

“I -” 

Shay starts to speak, but then is cut off by Monique suddenly bursting into laughter. She doubles over, grabbing onto Shay’s arm as she cackles. Shay stares down at the top of her hijab in disbelief and amusement. 

When Monique straightens up, she wipes her hand across the corner of her eyes. “You should’ve seen your fucking face, girl.”

Shay grins, slapping at Monique’s arm. “Dude!”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” Monique says. “You looked so… I don’t know, I just wanted to make you laugh. I didn’t realize you’d take me seriously!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know!” Shay asks. 

“Common sense ain’t so common, huh,” Monique grins cheekily.

“Shut up,” Shay blushes, grinning back at her. 

"So, how was your Sunday?" Monique asks. "Get into anything crazy?"

Shay hesitates for a moment, looking into her smiling brown eyes.

“Mo!” 

Shay turns to see Zoya walking up to them, one perfect eyebrow raised. Shay wonders if she practices that or if it’s something that just comes naturally. When she turns back to Monique, Monique’s still smiling, but it’s less… intimate, somehow. It’s not that she doesn’t look happy to see Zoya, but it feels different than the way she smiles at Shay. 

She’s… mostly sure of that. 

“Hey boo,” Monique says as Zoya stops in front of them.

“Hey,” Zoya says, eyes darting between Shay and Monique. “You ready for lunch?”

“Oh, yeah,” Monique says. 

“Unless… you have other plans?” Zoya says, a small smirk forming on her face. 

“No,” Monique says too quickly. “Uhm, no.”

“Right,” Zoya says, before tilting her head. “Shay, did you want to eat with us today?”

Monique starts coughing so violently that Shay’s worried she’s actually going to throw up. Zoya wacks her back, seeming to enjoy whatever is happening. Shay frowns, starting to dig around in her bag for the lukewarm water bottle she thinks should be in there. 

“Shay?” Zoya asks once Monique stops.

“Uhm,” Shay’s mind goes blank for a moment. “What was the question?”

Monique says, voice hoarse, “Uhm. Lunch?”

Part of Shay wants to say yes; wants to spend the hour continuing to laugh and joke around with Monique. But the other half can’t help but realizing what that might mean. Spending the time with Zoya, Megan and them, which might mean too many awkward pauses and strange looks. She can already imagine Grace trying too hard by offering her half of her lunch or something, or Kelsey trying to rope her back into another school spirit event. More than anything though, she realizes as a pang of longing goes through her, is she doesn’t want to feel like she doesn’t belong. She doesn’t want to pretend that she’s friends with these girls, with girls in general. Girls who probably aren’t afraid to really talk about their shit or kiss each others’ faces or… or whatever it is that girl friends do. She's not usually so contemplative over this shit, but she can't help but wonder about it, the fight with Marlon and Tyler in the forefront of her thoughts.

When she finally looks back at Monique and Zoya, it’s the intense look in Zoya’s eyes that she notices first. Like Zoya is studying her and can tell exactly what she’s thinking. 

“Oh, uhm, I can’t,” Shay says too quickly. “I have… plans.”

“Your plans don’t want to join our plans?” Monique asks, sounding shy.

Before Shay can answer, Zoya jumps in. “No, it’s cool. Next time, though.”

“Right,” Shay says. “Next time.”

She tries to push down the lump of loneliness rolling up her throat as she watches them walk away, arm in arm. She sighs and turns to head outside, where she knows Marlon and Tyler are probably eating lunch under the bleachers.

+++

**Tuesday, October 8, 9:43 PM  
**

_ New Message from**: Ty** _

Forgot to ask you

Did you see that your BFF Kelsey is hosting a bake sale Thursday

For National Coming Out Day on Friday

Or wait

Are you making dick-shaped cakes with her right now?

You’re so funny I forgot to laugh

Also I did see

But it’s the GSA not Kelsey

Kelsey IS the GSA

Well the straight part of it anyway

Lmao

At least it’s for a good cause

Aren’t they donating the money to the Trevor Project

Yeah

But anyway

Should we do anything to celebrate

Besides eating overpriced rainbow marzipan

Coming in hot with the jokes today I see

I'm serious

we could go see Joker and make fun of all the straight white dudes

I'm really not trying to get jumped outside a comic book movie so

Thanks but I'll pass

+++

**Wednesday, October 9, 9:30 AM**

_ I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God. - Romans 12:1-2. _

_ Remember that God always watches over you, and you were made in his image. Have a good day. I love you.  
_

Shay reads over her mother’s text message with growing anxiety, trying to figure out exactly what the fuck it’s supposed to mean or what it’s supposed to do with her. She slumps low into her chair, drawing her feet up onto the seat with her. It’s too early for this, she decides, locking her phone again and throwing it into her bag. Way too fucking early. 

“Uhm, Shay?” Kelsey asks hesitantly. “What did you think?” 

Shay looks up; Kelsey has an encouraging look on her face, reminding Shay of a kindergarten teacher. Beside her, Zoya just looks bored, flipping through the pages of her workbook and occasionally scribbling something into the margins.

“Whatever you think I’m good with,” Shay says dully.

Zoya rolls her eyes, not stopping what she’s doing. “Girl, could you at least pretend to pay attention? It’s a group grade and Mr. Anderson is already riding our asses.”

Shay sighs, opening her work packet for the first time. Kelsey helpfully tells her the page number in a the same cheerful, patient voice. When Shay gets to the right question, she sucks her teeth.

“‘What happens when the free exercise of religion conflicts with compelling government interests in its citizens’ education, health, or well-being? Should families be permitted to continue religious practices that the government finds harmful to children?’”

“So, uhm,” Kelsey says. “What do you think?”

Shay stares down at the words, trying to even understand what it’s asking of her. It’s not that the question is particularly complicated, but it feels like a fucking kick in the teeth. Her mother’s text rattles around in her brain as the silence stretches on. She can’t even look up at Kelsey and Zoya. 

“I don’t know,” she finally says. “And I don’t care. Look can - can you guys just deal with this one.”

She expects them to argue with her, but to her surprise, they don’t. 

“Uhm, okay, so,” Kelsey says slowly. “We should - hmm. Why don’t we start with a definition of ‘harm’ to start off with and -”

“I mean wouldn’t everyone just be better off without religion at all, like they’re all just a bunch of archaic rules that like, are supposed to scare people into being bigots or else they’ll go to hell,” Shay bursts out. 

The silence stretches again, seeming so quiet that Shay can practically hear the seconds ticking by. She glances up slightly to see Kelsey’s pencil hovering just a few inches above her packet. When she finally looks all the way up, Zoya and Kelsey are sharing twin expressions of surprise. Zoya takes a deep breath before exhaling slowly; Kelsey starts to fiddle with the chain on her neck. Shay belated realizes that there’s a cross on it. 

“What do you mean by that?” Zoya finally asks. 

Shay scowls. “What do you mean, what do I mean?”

“Can you give a specific example that you’re thinking of,” Zoya asks slowly. “That could possibly apply to all religions?”

Shay shifts uncomfortably. “Well, like...”

“Like?”

“Being gay,” she bursts out. “There’s no organized religion that says that being gay is chill. And actually, it’s actively making people hate other people for it, so. Just look at the Supreme Court right now. All those religious, conservative judges are probably gonna allow gay and trans people to be fired just for being themselves cause some - some bearded dude in the clouds told them that's what's moral. We’d all be better off if religion didn’t exist.” 

She realizes how stupid her argument sounds the more she goes on, but she can’t seem to stop her mouth from moving. Kelsey and Zoya stare at her, clearly uncomfortable, but neither of them bother to stop her. As she keeps talking, she just keeps thinking about her mother, about all the times she’s heard one of her church friends shake their heads over “those people.” Every time they say, “Trump is a racist piece of something, but maybe he’s not so wrong about those gays.” Every time she’s wanted to open her mouth to finally, finally be herself in her own home, only to be shut down with a Bible verse or another condemnation. 

Zoya’s eyes meet hers. “Look. I’m not gonna lie and say that some people use religion to be homophobic. But that doesn’t represent what religion is, or what religion should be.”

“Yeah, and, you know, a lot of the… like… Scripture and stuff that people use to justify homophobia isn’t even about gay people,” Kelsey says. “People use it to be horrible. But… people can twist anything to be horrible.”

Zoya nods. “There’s nothing in the Quran that says ‘you must hate gay people.’”

“Not in the Bible either,” Kelsey says, then pauses. “And… and you know I think the only rule that really connects like, all religions is the Golden Rule.”

Shay can barely speak as she mutters, “The Golden Rule?”

“Yeah,” Kelsey says softly. “You know. Treat others with respect, like, the same way you want to be treated.”

For some reason, her gentle voice makes Shay angrier. “It’s fine to say all of that, but the reality is that religion doesn’t foster love or whatever. Just look at what it does to people.”

“That’s not religion, Shay. That’s people abusing people and misguiding them on what faith actually is to gain control. And people… they’ll do that with or without religion.” Zoya sighs softly. “And there’s a lot of religious people out there that would agree that being gay or trans and being faithful aren’t contradictions.”

Shay’s fingers tighten on her packet for a moment, and then release.

“Whatever,” she finally says. “Can we just drop this?”

Kelsey clears her throat. “Uhm, yah. Yeah, let’s just move onto the next topic.”

_ Only God can judge me (that right?) _

_ Only God, baby (can judge me now) _

_ Nobody else (nobody else) _

_ All you other motherfuckers get out my business (really) _

_ (Only God can judge me now) _

+++

**Thursday, October 10, 3:01 PM **

Shay walks out of school and into the sunshine, taking a deep breath. She immediately regrets it as she inhales the scent of brownies and dirty gym socks, coughing to clear her lungs out. Gross.

_ My money my body na your own _

_ If I tell you say I love you, o _

_ My money my body na your own, o baby _

_ Thirty billion for the account, io _

_ Versace, Gucci for your body, o baby _

She turns to walk towards the senior parking lot, adjusting her headphones to better ignore Kelsey’s yells about supporting the LGBTQ community through baked goods. They’ve had a table set up all afternoon outside, and Shay really wants to know how Kelsey gets so much permission to miss so much class. She’s so caught up in the thought of it that it takes her a minute to realize that someone has fallen into step beside her. She blinks in surprise to see Zoya strolling next to her as if it’s the most natural thing in the word. Shay takes a few more steps to make sure that it’s intentional, and not just them walking at the same pace in the exact same direction. But no; when her steps slow, Zoya’s do too. Shay stops completely, pulling her headphones off of her ears. 

“Uh, can I help you?” Shay asks, bewildered. 

“Can you help me?” Zoya scoffs. “Not likely. But I can help you. Again.” 

“That’s - okay,” Shay glares. “If you wanna call blackmail ‘helping’ -”

“Anyway,” Shay interrupts her. “My brother’s friend is throwing a party tomorrow. Give me your number, and I’ll text you the address.”

Shay stops short, and Zoya does too. From her spot on the sidewalk she can see Marlon’s truck, Tyler leaning out the window as he smokes. She turns so her back is to them, facing Zoya fully. Zoya’s phone is in her hand, her arm extended towards Shay with her contacts app open. It’s only then that Shay notices that she’s wearing a shirt that says _ bread rolls, not gender roles _on it; normally she’d think it’s actually kind of cool, but right now she’s too distracted to comment on that. 

Shay stares at Zoya incredulously. “Why are you telling me this?”

Zoya gives her a pointed look. “You may be able to fool your friends, but Mo has never been able to fool me.”

Shay’s heart pounds. “I -”

“Look, if you don’t come, it’s nothing to me,” she says. “But I think you’ll have a good time.” 

Zoya starts to withdraw her hand, but Shay reaches out, her hand closing over Zoya’s. She stares at her own hand, surprised at her own action. When she looks back up, Zoya is smiling at her. It’s not a smirk, it’s not condescending, it’s not unkind. It just… looks like a smile. Shay bites her lip for a moment, and then takes Zoya’s phone from her. She quickly punches in her name and number, being sure to save it before handing it back. 

She glances over her shoulder, back to Marlon’s car. It’s too far to tell if they’ve spotted her or not, but she’s sure Marlon would’ve honked at her by now. 

“One more thing,” Zoya says.

When Shay turns back to her, her face is serious, a hint of concern whining through her eyes. Shay’s stomach drops.

“I know this is… weird to ask, but don’t bring Tyler or Marlon,” Zoya says. “Okay?”

Shay’s eyebrows rise. “What?”

“I’m inviting you, not all of Bouldin,” Zoya says. “I don’t need people from this school knowing what I do when I’m not here.”

It sounds too flippant to be a real answer, but Shay doesn’t know Zoya well enough to call bullshit. Something must read in her expression anyway, though. Zoya’s eyes scan Shay’s face, like she’s looking for the answer on her skin. 

“Also… look, it might not be my place to say anything, but you should talk to him about Megan,” Zoya says finally. “She’s doing really well right now. And… I’m just worried about him bringing her down. He… does something to her. Or like... I don't know. They do something to each other.”

Shay isn’t sure how to respond exactly, because she feels like any denial that comes out of her mouth might be a lie. Instead, she just nods slowly. Zoya stands there for another moment, before nodding back at her.

“Okay,” she says.

“Okay,” Shay responds. “See you tomorrow.”

Zoya walks back towards the bake sale, snapping at someone that they better buy the cupcake they just tried to swipe frosting off of. 

+++

**Friday, October 11, 10:19 PM **

_ Listen up everyone! We have been just informed _

_ That there's an unknown virus that's attacking all clubs _

_ Symptoms have been said to be, heaving breathing _

_ Wild dancing, coughing _

_ So when you hear the sound, WHO-DI-WHOOOO! _

_ Run for cover muthafucka_

Shay wipes her palms into her camo pants as she walks into the house, immediately overwhelmed by the blasting music and the strong smell of weed and liquor. The living room is packed, with only a dim red lightbulb illuminating the space. Everywhere Shay looks, people are grinding, laughing, or hooking up. She squints her eyes and tries to spot someone, anyone she knows, but she can’t be sure because of how dark it is. She’s not even sure that anyone from her school is here. 

She’s never been to a party like this, that’s for sure.

_ WOOOOOO! Ahh daddy! Ooooo! Ah! Oh, ooh! _

_ Pass that dutch (ah), pass that dutch (ooh) _

_ Pass that dutch (ah), pass that dutch (ah) _

_ Pass that dutch (ah), pass that dutch (ah) _

_ Pass that dutch (whoo), pass that dutch _

She tries to snake her way through the makeshift dance floor, more than one person trying to grab her waist and pull her into the dancing crush. She starts to feel overwhelmed, her heart beating faster than the best of the song, each time she feels fingers against her skin. She’s beginning to think a crop top was not the right thing to wear here.

She manages to escape into the kitchen, where there’s a bit more breathing room, even if it’s filled with smoke. A couple of people are talking near the sink, which for some reason is full of ice and beer bottles, while a bigger group is playing cards at the kitchen table. Shay leans awkwardly against the kitchen counter, starting to wonder if she made a mistake coming here. She swallows, trying to figure out if it would be really fucking weird to text Zoya and see where she’s at. It’s not like they’re friends, but she did invite her -

“If you want in, I’ll be your partner,” a voice says in her ear. 

Shay startles. A Black girl with a massive bun, her hair in dreads, and blue lipstick stands next to her, smiling. She looks vaguely familiar to Shay, but she can’t quite place her. She feels her heart start to slow down, feeling slightly better now that she’s not standing by herself like a loser. Normally, she doesn’t mind being alone; but in a situation like this, where everything is just too much, it’s nice to just stand next to someone.

“Uh, nah, I’m good,” Shay says belatedly. 

“Not a Spades kinda girl?” 

“I’ve never played,” Shay admits.

The girl whoops. “Never played Spades! Oh girl, good thing I found you. I’m queen of Spades.”

“Yah, And queen of not waiting your turn,” an Arab guy with a backwards snapback says from the table.

Shay has to choke back a laugh as the girl next to her grabs a bottle cap and flings it right at the guy. It hits him in the side of the head; everyone at the table starts laughing and pushing at the guy. It’s all clearly good-hearted, and the girl next to Shay starts cackling.

“You know that’s messed up!” The guy says, leaning up to rub his head. 

“Come at me like that again and I’ll show you messed up,” is the snarky response. 

“Damn Lala,” he says. “You ain’t right.”

The girl shrugs, then turns her back to the table, clearly finished with the conversation. Shay notices that she’s carrying a Capri-Sun pouch in one hand.

“Anyway, don’t worry, you’ll win if you’re on my team,” she says. “I’m Jamilah, by the way. Lala for short.”

“Shay,” Shay answers.

Lala gestures towards the sink. “You want a beer? Or something else?”

Shay says, “you have anything to smoke?”

Lala laughs. “Not me, but let’s go outside and see who’s out there.”

_ Throw that, twerk it _

_ Shake that, bounce that _

_ (I want a slim, fine woman with some twerk with her) _

_ (Action!) _

_ Do it, baby, stick it, baby _

_ Move it, baby, lick it, baby (do it) _

_ Suck up on that click until that pussy got a hickie, baby (bounce) _

_ Watch big, coulda bought a Range Rover (Range Rover) _

_ Chain little, but I spent some change on it (change on it) _

_ Nigga mad, I'ma put the gang on it (gang on it) _

_ They'll die 'bout me, they'll bang on it (facts) _

_ And that asshole got a li'l frame on it (ooww) _

_ Pussy so good he got my name on it (Miami) _

Shay sucks in the fresh air once the reach the porch, mostly empty except for a couple of folks drinking on the railing. Lala nods at all of them and then sits down on the steps. Shay follows suit, folding her knees closer to her chest. 

“Let me text my man,” she says. “He usually has something with him.”

“Cool,” Shay says.

Lala pulls out her phone, texting rapidly before setting it on the stair besides her. “Someone in there belong to you?”

“Uhm,” Shay says. “Not really. A friend from school invited me.”

“Oh nice,” Lala says. “You go to Central? Sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you there.”

“Uhm, no,” Shay says. “Bouldin.”

Lala lights up. “No shit! You must be a friend of Zoya’s then!”

Shay winces, hoping she doesn’t start rattling off the name of Zoya’s friends, then making her admit she’s not exactly sure why Zoya invited her. 

“Yeah...”

“That’s awesome,” Lala says. “We’ve all been dying to meet y’all, but you know how Zoya is.”

“Right...” Shay clears her throat. “So. You go to Central?”

It’s a dumbass question, and she wants to smack herself for it. 

“No, well - I graduated early last year,” Lala says. “So I’m at Rice right now.”

“In Houston?” Shay asks, bewildered. “What are you doing here, then?”

She laughs. “Yeah. The drive’s a bitch, but I miss being home. Also the food sucks so I’m trying to convince my mom to pack me enough food to last me a week at least.”

Shay miles back at that hesitantly.

“But anyway, I’m glad to see you here,” Lala says. “Look, you know what Zoya’s like -”

“Uh huh,” Shay lies.

“ - so don’t let her bad attitude stop you from coming around more often,” Lala says. “I don’t care what she says, we can all chill. Look at me and you!”

“Right,” Shay says, more confused than ever.

The backdoor bangs open, and Shay glances behind her to see Monique walking out onto the porch with Zoya and two guys, one that she just vaguely recognizes. All of them are laughing as they come out. Shay thinks that she’s never seen Zoya look so goofy before. Shay shifts uncomfortably, her heart rate speeding up in anticipation and anxiety. The movement accidentally draws Monique’s gaze to her. Time seems to slow down as Shay sees Monique’s eyes widen in surprise and then pleasure. Her mouth curls into an almost shy smile. 

Shay looks down bashfully as the group trips down the stairs between her and Lala to stand on the grass. 

“Zoya, you’re a terrible host,” Lala says immediately. “I found your friend in the kitchen by herself.”

“Girl, she was fine,” Zoya says flippantly. “Weren’t you?”

Four pairs of eyes turn to stare at Shay. She can honestly say it’s the weirdest party she has ever been to. Monique bites her lip like she wants to keep herself from laughing; Zoya stares at her like she’s daring her to say something. The only one who’s not looking at her is the guy she doesn’t recognize. He’s just openly staring at Zoya with the strongest heart eyes Shay has ever seen in her life. 

“Anyway, so now you just gonna stand there and act like you don’t know nobody?” Lala teases. “Aren’t you gonna introduce everyone?”

Zoya rolls her eyes. “Shay, you know Monique and Lala, I’m assuming. This is Kareem and my brother, Sekou.”

Shay belatedly realizes where she recognizes Lala from as soon as Zoya points out her brother. She’s the pretty girl that she thought Sekou was cheating on Monique with, outside to Mexican spot. She feels her face growing warm and she hopes that no one can tell how embarrassed she is, because then someone might ask and she might have to expose herself. That, or run back into the house pretending like she has to pee. 

Sekou stares at her for a moment, before his face breaks out into a cheesy grin. “Oh. Shay.”

The emphasis on her name is so heavy that Shay feels her face hear up even more. She has no idea what that’s supposed to mean, but suddenly Zoya is grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Monique is staring daggers at Sekou, and Lala has thrown her arm around Shay’s shoulders.

“Shay!” Lala cries. “I didn’t realize.”

Kareem beams at her. “Shay.”

“Yeah,” Zoya grins devilishly. “Shay.”

“Shay,” Sekou repeats himself.

“Okay I think we got it,” Monique snaps suddenly.

“Do we?” Sekou asks. “Do we got it?”

“Fuck you,” Shay thinks she hears Monique mutter.

Sekou rocks back on his heels. “So you’re in a band, huh? That’s really cool.”

Shay frowns. “Uhm, Yeah -” 

“We must’ve watched that music video you did in your school like, ten times, right Mo?”

“No,” Monique says through clenched teeth.

The realization hits Shay like a punch to the gut, and suddenly she’s breathless. She feels the smile on her own face blossom like a flower turning towards the sun, her insides tangling with mostly excitement and only a bit of embarrassment. She leans forward, staring right at Sekou. 

“What else have you heard about me?” She asks.

Something is bubbling up in her, something she can’t even name. It’s making her giddy, making her want to laugh and tease and be part of something. Part of everything.

Sekou grins at her. “Well -” 

“Okay, you’ve had your fun,” Lala says, raising her eyebrow at Sekou. “Let Mo have a turn.”

“Yes baby,” Sekou says immediately.

“Yes baby,” Zoya mimicks him. “Oh anything for you baby.”

Sekou lunges at his sister, who neatly dances away. She goes behind Kareem who looks absolutely delighted that Zoya is clutching onto his shoulders. He crosses his arms over his chest, making a tutting sound at Sekou.

“Bro!” Sekou exclaims. “Traitor!”

Sekou starts to run at Kareem, who nearly sidesteps him and Zoya starts running. Sekou pauses, then goes to run after Zoya. Kareem trips him and then chases after Zoya, laughing wildly. Sekou curses and Lala jumps up, giggling to help him up. Together, they take off after Kareem and Zoya, manically laughing into the night. 

Shay catches Monique’s eye, who looks both absolutely enamoured of her friends and completely mortified. Monique bites her lip and then tilts her head to the side. She raises her eyebrows in question, something Shay is all to eager and willing to answer. 

“This is something else, huh,” Monique laughs, sounding more embarrassed than anything else.

“Yeah,” Shay says. “But it’s cool.”

“Cool, right.” Monique huffs, then pauses. “Do you… wanna get out of here?”

_ I'm tryna talk to you but the music too loud _

_ Girl I know a quiet place where we can vibe out _

_ I ain't like your ex, you can let your guard down _

_ Tell your girls you’re with a real one, so they can calm down _

_ Oh yeah, they can calm down _

_ They saying I'm the nigga, that's the word around town _

_ Oh yeah that's the word around town _

_ If you didn't know before then I bet you know now _

Shay sticks her face half out the window, feeling the cool country air caress her face as Monique drives just slightly above the speed limit. Monique’s voice reaches her ears as she sings along to the music, just slightly offkey. Shay breathes in the air and closes her eyes, actually thankful that she’s not high right now. Something feels kinda fragile, but mostly exciting. They haven’t really spoken on the drive, but they don’t need to. Shay’s never felt so comfortable in silence before.

Monique turns off a dirt road into the quarry. She turns off the headlights but keeps the car running, music still playing from the sound system. 

“Race you to the water?” Monique asks, one hand on the door.

Shay shakes her head in disbelief. “Are you - are you kidding me?”

“What,” Monique grins, “scared of dark water?”

“No!” Shay says too quickly. 

“I know you’re not afraid of getting your hair wet,” Monique says. “Since you ain’t got none.”

Shay rolls her eyes at her, a grin forming onto her face. “No, but I am scared of other things. Wild animals. Cops! This is some white people shit.”

Monique laughs and cracks her door open. “It’s only a white people thing if we’re buck naked.”

Shay watches, flabbergasted, as Monique jumps out of her car and runs across the rocky terrain. She still has her boots on, but she stumbles to a stop right before the water. She unlaces them quickly and tugs them off with reckless abandon, before leaping right into the water. 

She stays under for so long that Shay leans up over the dashboard, scared for a moment that Monique won’t resurface. When she does though, it’s with an exuberant laugh. Shay momentarily wonders what kind of wrap skills she has because her scarf still looks perfectly tied around her head. 

Monique dives back down, and Shay’s fingers clench and draw against the dashboard as her hands curl into fists. If she’s honest with herself, she is scared. She terrified of crossing the invisible line that she’s never gone past before, of actually having to dive into something reciprocal and real. Even in the pain and angst of unreciprocated love, there is a comfort that has long since been Shay’s companion. Not only in romantic relationships, but in any kind of relationship with other women. 

She leans back slowly, hand hovering on the edge of her shirt. The cotton feels rough on her fingers as her breathing quickens, on the edge of something here. She closes her eyes momentarily, the brief darkness soothing her for a moment. When she opens them again, they land on the clock blinking at her in the dashboard. 

11:11. 

She swallows, and her fingers relax their hold onto her shirt. She puts her phone and keys on the dashboard, before kicking her sneakers off. She stumbles out of the car, adrenaline pumping through her every vein. She races towards the water, ignoring the rocks stabbing through her socks. Monique splashes around in the water like a little kid, her laughter spurring Shay on. She doesn’t even pause before the water, jumping in without abandon.

The water is too dark to see anything when she opens her eyes, the stinging coldness prickling through every pore of her skin. As she pops back up, she gasps for air, sputtering at how fucking freezing it is, even in September. Her clothes feel like they’re weighing her down, and part of her wishes she really did have the wherewithal to run in naked. She rubs the water from her eyes, kicking her feet to stay afloat. When she brings her hands back down, Monique is swimming towards her. 

Shay stays where she is, as still as she can be while keeping her head above water. Monique stops just a few inches away from her, their feet grazing each other below the surface. Monique’s skin shines in the moonlight, water droplets running down her face. Shay’s heart beats so fast that she’s sure it’s gonna cause some waves. 

“You came in,” Monique says.

“It was 11:11,” Shay tells her.

“Ah,” Monique smiles, and swims slightly closer. “Make a wish?”

And so, Shay does.

She leans in closer, lips touching Monique’s gently. She tastes water and dirt mostly, with a hint of whatever sugary thing Monique was drinking at the party earlier. Rather than kissing her back, Shay feels Monique’s mouth stretch into a smile against hers. 

Shay leans back, trying to look into Monique’s face to see what exactly that means. She doesn’t get too far, though. Monique’s arm snakes around her body, pulling her back easily in the water. Shay lifts her hands to cup Monique’s face, and then their lips are pressing against each other again. There’s something sweet in the kiss, even as Shay feels Monique’s tongue against hers. They rock together in the water, legs tangling around each other and fingers sliding against skin. 

Something bright flashes on the side of their faces, and they break apart. Shay blinks into the bright light, not recognizing it at first. Monique laughs, tugging on her arm underwater.

“Looks like we’re not the only ones with this idea,” Monique says. 

The lights dim suddenly, and Shay recognizes the shape behind it as a car. A few people stumble out of the car, laughing and chugging beers. Shay tries not to groan. It isn’t as hard as she thinks; she can’t keep the smile that she’s sporting off of her face.

“Come on,” Monique says, swimming back towards the edge of the water. “Let’s get out of here.”

They climb back out of the water just as the other teens jump in. Shay sees a flash of bare, pale ass and rolls her eyes as she races back to Monique’s car. Monique trips as she grabs both of her boots, running back to the driver’s seat. She just gets back in as another car pulls into the quarry lot, and Shay slams her own door shut. 

“Fuck,” Monique laughs, fumbling for the steering wheel. “Fuck, I think I saw someone’s dick.”

Shay doesn’t stop laughing, even after they’ve pulled back out onto the road leading home.

+++


	5. Murphy's Law

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to briefly say thank you to everyone who's commented, kudo'd, or bookmarked this!!!! I probably won't reply to comments until after I finish this, but know that I do read them and I super appreciate y'all :) Thank you for coming on this journey with me!

+++

**Saturday, October 12, 3:15am**

“Your voice is too muffled,” Monique says. “I can’t hear you.”

“I don’t want my mom to hear,” Shay says. “Just turn the volume up on your phone.”

Monique laughs at her. The sound makes Shay blush, and if she wasn’t already hiding under all her covers, she’d probably grow warm, too. Her phone is practically plastered to her ear, the screen burning against her cheek. She can’t stop the goofy grin that’s spread across her face, and she has the feeling that Monique feels the same. 

“Anyway, what did you say?” Monique asks.

Shay says, “I just can’t believe you’re into the whole religion thing. Since you’re…”

“Bi?”

“Yeah,” Shay says. 

Monique makes a noise of discontent. “Yeah, Zoya told me about your little outburst in class. What’s up with that?”

“Huh?” Shay blinks in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“It sounds like you weren’t just saying something general,” Monique says. “Like, if you wanna talk about it, I’m here. But I think we’ve just had very different experiences with faith.”

“I guess,” Shay says.

“And anyway, being an el gee bee tee doesn’t mean I can’t be religious,” Monique says, laughing. “They didn’t revoke my Muslim card.”

Shay asks skeptically, “so you’re… out? To your family?”

“Yeah,” Monique says. “They were really supportive. I mean, I got a lot of questions, especially from my little sister -"

"You have a little sister?"

"Yeah, Nichelle," Monique says fondly. "She's a pain in my butt, but she's also pretty cool. For a second grader."

"Wow, so you're... like out-out," Shay swallows down a knot in her throat. “That must really be nice.”

They both fall silent on the phone. Shay thinks she’s waiting for Monique to ask again if she wants to talk about it. She wonders if Monique is just waiting for her to keep talking. Finally, Shay hears the sound of covers rustling, like Monique is shifting her position.

“It’s different for everyone, I guess,” Monique says. “But then again, so is faith. Like, I cover my hair in public, I don’t drink. But like, I smoke. Or like... right now, dating someone who isn’t Muslim isn’t important to me. It’s different, depending.”

“So like, what about for Zoya?”

Monique says, “Zoya doesn’t do any of that stuff, smoke, drink. And she definitely wants to date someone Muslim. Even before that douchebag, it was something that was important to her.”

“That douchebag?”

“Yeah.” Monique pauses, but doesn’t go further. “So it depends. Nothing tells me I can’t love women. So I keep doing it.”

“And how many other women have you loved?” Shay teases.

Monique laughs. “Oh, so we doing that talk now, huh? The exes talk? How many women have you loved?”

It’s Shay’s turn to squirm. She thinks of Megan, and then thinks better of it.

“So, anyway,” she clears her throat.

“Hah!”

“That Kareem guy seemed really into Zoya.”

“Oh yeah, they’re basically soulmates,” Monique says. “Zoya tries not to let it show, but she’s constantly checking him out. And homeboy’s obvious as hell. It’s gonna be so fun when they finally get together.”

“Fun for who?” Shay asks. “Zoya or you and your friends?”

Monique laughs. “You got me there.”

They’re quiet for a long moment, but it’s comfortable. Shay stares up at her ceiling. 

“So, Allah’s down with the gays,” Shay muses.

“You still on this, huh?” Monique has a smile in her voice. “Look, I’m gonna send you this Youtube link to this Spanish kid’s channel. It’s all about how he came out, and he has his friend, this hijabi girl, on to talk about Islam and being gay and stuff. I think you’ll learn a lot from it. About how like, being gay and religious or being scientific and religious don't have to be at odds.”

Shay laughs. “Giving me homework, huh?”

“We all gotta lot to learn,” Monique says. “But yah, you more than anyone.”

“Hey!”

Shay wishes Monique was in bed with her for a few reasons. But mostly, she wishes she were there so Shay could smack her in the face with one of her pillows.

“So, you’re not really into religion,” Monique says. “What are you into?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know. If you don’t believe in God -”

“Okay, I didn’t say that -”

“What do you believe in? Flying spaghetti monster? The multiverse?”

“It’s not that I don’t think God is real,” Shay repeats. “I just… don’t like how churches are. How they say God is.”

“So, what is God to you, then?” Monique asks.

Shay frowns, staring off into the threads of her comforter. It’s a question she’s not prepared for, because no one had ever asked her it before. All her life, she was told what God was; she never really stopped to think beyond that. 

“I don’t know,” she admits. “Maybe… Honesty, or trust. Love. Not some bearded white dude who just goes around smiting people. When I was a kid...”

“Yeah?”

“I always really liked hearing about the Nativity, but I think that had more to do with it being Christmas, and you know, presents,” Shays laughs. “But it was also cool, hearing about how someone so small could be so important. Like, literal baby Jesus being the Savior and all that.”

“Yeah?”

“And it was like, I don’t know, really clear that Mary and Joseph really, really loved him already,” Shay says. “And that Mary like, wanted him. Wanted to keep him despite all that wild stuff, with the angel appearing and being randomly pregnant and all that. I know a lot of Republicans use Mary as an example for why people shouldn’t like, get abortions. But I always thought it was cool that Mary chose to keep Jesus, you know? That love that she had was all about choice.”

“So, it’s all really a pro-choice narrative, huh?” Monique asks.

“I mean…”

Monique says, “I get it. I mean… like you know, Muslims don’t believe Jesus is the savior but Mary’s still important. It’s pretty cool though, like how important mothers are, or women are in general in Islam. I love hearing about that stuff.”

“Yeah,” Shay says. “Yeah, like you were telling me about that event you went to?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Monique says. 

There’s a small lull, but it’s not uncomfortable.

“But yeah,” Shay says. “I’m pretty sure God’s out there, somewhere. But maybe there’s also parallel universes and shit. I don't know. Maybe God just kept creating new universes everything he got bored with an old one.”

Monique starts laughing. “Like The Sims.”

Shay huffs. “Yeah.”

“Okay, so in these other universes, do you think everything is completely different?” Monique asks. “Or that things are almost exactly the same, but shit’s slightly off?” 

“I don’t know,” Shay laughs. “I just thought this up.”

“Well, make a guess!”

Shay rolls her eyes fondly. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s where almost everything is the same, but just some things are different. Like, we’re still on the phone but maybe we’re two white boys or something.”

“Hah!” Monique laughs. “I’m glad to be in this universe, then.”

“Me too.”

“So, do you think the other Shays and the other Moniques all have free will? Or are we all just destined to do the same things as the other, to stick to the same paths, make the same mistakes?”

Shay thinks for a moment. “I think it would be nice if we all had a choice. And just...”

And just choose each other anyway, is what she thinks. Monique’s voice is soft when she answers. 

“Yah,” she says. “Yah.”

_ I never knew there was a _

_ Love like this before _

_ Never had someone to show me a love _

_ Love like this before _

_ Now that we have, come to be _

_ A brand new light, I can see _

_ Never thought you'd be _

_ A special, part of me, no baby _

+++

**Saturday, October 12, 2:30 PM **

Shay wakes up to the sound of silence, disorienting her so badly she’s not sure where she is at first. She lifts her head from her pillow, her phone just a few inches away. When she tries to check the time, it’s dead. 

_ Got me up all night _

_ All I'm singing is love songs, she got me up all night _

_ Constant drinking and love songs, she got me up all night _

_ Down and out with these love songs, she got me up all night _

_ Drown it out with these love songs, she got me up all night (yeah) _

_ All I'm singing is love songs, she got me up all night (yeah) _

_ Constant drinking and love songs, she got me up all night (yeah) _

_ Down and out with these love songs, got me open all night uh huh, got me up all night hey _

A silly grin spreads across her face and she covers her face with her hands, giggling uncontrollably. She doesn’t remember falling asleep, but she knows it must’ve been to the sound of Monique breathing, or some shit like that. 

When she can breathe without laughing, she swings her feet over the side of her bed. Her smile turns into a slight frown, trying to figure out why her mom didn’t wake her up earlier. The sun is streaming fully into her room, so she knows it must be sometime around noon. Even if her mom hadn’t come in to ask her if she was going to help her clean, the house music would’ve woken her up. 

Scratching her belly as she goes, Shay shuffles out of her room and towards her parents’ room. The door is completely closed, making Shay frown at the wood paneling. A pit of dread starts forming in her stomach and she moves forward, gently placing her forehead on the door. Closing her eyes, she strains her ears to try and hear any noises inside. Maybe her mom just absentmindedly shut her door and was super quiet before leaving for... a community event, or something. Saturday services.

She gently raps her knuckles on the door. “Ma?”

There’s no response, so she knocks a little harder. When there’s still no answer, her hand falls to the door knob. She hesitates before slowly turning it, stepping into the room.

It’s completely dark, with the heavy winter curtains drawn across the windows. A small, pained noise comes from the pile of blankets on the bed. The shaft of light from the open door illuminates her mother’s nightstand, covered in pills and a heating pad. Shay steps into the room, gently closing the door behind her. She pads over to the bed, tentatively sitting on the corner.

“Ma?” She asks quietly.

She can barely see her own hand in front of her face, but she can imagine the exhausted look on her mother’s face as she tries to sleep. Shay leans in to touch her mother’s shoulder, trying to aim correctly so she doesn’t accidentally poke her in the eye.

“Ma?”

“Not now, baby,” is the tired response.

Try as she might, Shay can’t stop the brief flash of anger that runs up her spine. _It’s never now_, is the though that accompanies the feeling, along with an overwhelming guilt. It’s as heavy on her as the darkness that surrounds her, and she has to actively stop her hand from clenching into a fist. She tries to even her breathing, so soft compared to her mother’s labored breath. For some reason, she can’t help but imagine Monique with her grandmother. Sitting in bed together, telling her all about her adventure with Shay the night before. Her grandmother, kissing the top of her head and just being in the moment with her. 

“Shay? Baby, not now,” her mother repeats.

“Sorry,” Shay mumbles. 

She gets up and navigates back to the door on muscle memory alone, careful not to stub her toe on the bed post as she goes. A ball that feels like a sob crawls up her throat, and she’s ashamed of how selfish she wants to be right now. She tries to swallow it down, reminding herself to pull it together by the time she cracks the door open again.

“Just holler if you need water or anything,” Shay says softly.

She closes the door without waiting for a reply. 

+++

**Monday, October 14, 10:54 AM **

_ Everyday I spend my time _

_ Drinking wine, feeling fine _

_ Waiting here to find the sign _

_ That I can understand _

_ Yes I am _

_ So everyday I spend my time _

_ Drinking wine, feeling fine _

_ Waiting here to find the sign _

_ That I should take it slow (here I go!) _

Shay stops chewing the apple slice in her mouth, staring at Tyler incredulously. It’s not an important detail exactly, but she wants to make sure that she heard him right anyway. The two of them are sitting in a little alcove off the main hallway, avoiding the cafeteria and the rain outside. They have a pretty good view of people passing by them, just waiting for Marlon to show up. 

“Darla?” she asks without swallowing. “Like, from The Little Rascals?”

“Exactly like that,” Tyler responds, snagging an apple slice from the bag in her lap. “Anyway, so despite the fact that he swore she dumped him, she shows up anyway.”

Shay says, “whoa, seriously?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I don’t know how she got into the building, maybe it was a neighbor or something. But anyway, he opens the door and she storms in, takes one look at me on the couch in just my boxers and Chinese take-out and says, ‘so this is what you’ve been up to?’”

“Oh fuck…”

“She’s like, ‘so instead of answering my calls you’ve just been playing video games with your friend all weekend? What, bros before hoes or something?’” Tyler smirks, grabbing another apple slice.

Shay frowns. “Wait, what?”

“She had no clue that we were fucking,” Tyler laughs. “She honest to God though we were just hanging out, you know, two guys sitting five feet apart in the hot tub.”

Shay’s eyes bulge out. “Wait, are you serious?” 

“Dead,” Tyler says. “She didn’t suspect anything, but seeing him grovel about it was kind of pathetic to see, so I just got dressed and left.”

Shay suspects Tyler’s leaving something out of the story, but she hesitates to push him on it. What would the point be? Her pushing and prodding would just end in them fighting again. She takes a slow breath and tries to huff out a laugh. It’s strained to her own ears.

“Crazy,” she says. “So it’s done between you guys or…?”

“Yeah. The whole forbidden love thing loses its appeal once you see someone cry with snot coming out their nose.”

“Gross,” Shay says.

“Anyway, where were you this weekend?” Tyler asks.

Shay pauses for a minute, wondering exactly what to say to Tyler. Her joy from the weekend is still simmering inside of her, threatening to spill out in silly giggles and warm smiles. But another part of her doesn’t even know how to even start. She can’t exactly tell him she went to a party without him, because then he’ll want to know why. Any excuse she can come up with won’t cut it, she knows; they both know she’s not the kind to go to a party alone, or even really go to a party at all. But if she brings up what Zoya said about Megan… well that’s just gonna lead to some fight too. And if there’s one thing she’s tired of, honestly, it’s fighting over Megan. 

“Uhm…” she can’t lie to him, not fully. “I hung out with someone.”

Her tentative tone must register with him, because his gaze sharpens and he stares at her. 

“Hung out… like, hung out? With… a girl?”

“No, with your momma,” Shay snaps.

“Damn, Shady, no need to get like that,” Tyler pokes her ribcage, hard. “I just - I had no idea. You’re seeing someone? Who? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It just kinda happened,” Shay says. “I didn’t want to say anything because… because I didn’t think it would go anywhere.” 

As she says it, she realizes it’s not entirely true. Yeah, it was something she wanted to keep to herself, because before homecoming, she didn’t think it was possible. But after that… it was like a fantasy. She didn’t say anything because it was… is... special. Like a dream. And maybe she's been scared that talking about it would wake her up. 

There’s also the thing of this being just… uncharted territory for them. Shay’s never had a girlfriend, and any relationship talks they’ve had has been mostly about her crush, again, on Megan, with Tyler making snarky comments. She has no idea what he would even think of Monique. 

“Well, who is it?” Tyler asks. "Someone I know?"

“You know that new girl?” Shay’s asks, heart pounding. “Monique Cleaver.”

“No.”

“She’s been hanging out with… Zoya and them,” Shay says. “She’s Black, Muslim.” 

Tyler frowns thoughtfully. “I don’t think I… oh. That girl from the bleachers?”

Shay’s face turns warm. “Yeah.”

“Well, well, well,” Tyler grins at her. “So you guys hooked up?”

“Yeah,” Shay grins back.

He nudges his shoulder against hers. “Wow! Look at you, all grown up and touching boobies.”

“Ty!”

“When are you guys gonna see each other again?”

She smirks. “In fifth period?”

“No, I mean when are you gonna see her again?” He rolls his eyes. “It’s also not like you guys can meet up here, anyway.”

“Why not?”

Tyler snorts. “It’s not like she’s hanging out with the rainbow coalition.”

Shay frowns at him. “What does that even mean?”

“Come on, that group is like, the straightest group of girls I’ve ever seen,” Tyler laughs. “And do you not remember what Megan did to you last year? Your girlfriend’s probably so far in the closet she’s finding the cobwebs.”

Shay feels a flash of annoyance. “That’s not what it’s like at all.”

“No?” Tyler says sarcastically. “Didn’t you also say she’s Muslim?”

“So what?”

He sighs at her like she’s being obstinate on purpose. “You know.”

“No, I don’t know,” Shay says. “What, Muslims have to be homophobes?”

“That’s not what I mean. It’s like, you know how it is with religious people. My grandparents, your mom,” Tyler says pointedly. “She might be okay with experimenting or whatever, but I bet her family’s not.”

Shay feels her heart stop for a moment, before it starts beating so hard she can feel the throbbing in her neck and ears. She tells herself to just calm down, but she opens her mouth and words fall out before she can properly think them through.

“Bro, what the hell is wrong with you?” she snaps. “What, just because you can’t find a boyfriend who’ll admit to even liking dudes, there’s no way a girl could be into me, be proud to be with me? The fuck?”

Tyler’s face shutters. “That’s not what I said -”

“Okay, then enlighten me on what you did say?” 

He looks at her with a steady gaze. “I just think you should be careful. Yeah, you’re right. It’s hard for me to find someone. What makes you think it’ll be any easier for you? Look at the facts, Shay. You’re a gay Black girl in Texas, and you’re telling me she’s a gay Black Muslim girl in Texas. Why would anything about this be so simple?”

For some reason, the only thing Shay can mutter is, “she’s bisexual.”

Tyler snorts. “Oh, right. Even better.”

Her anger flares again. “What the fuck does that mean?”

He levels a look at her. “You know what it means. So she says she’s bi, cool, how do you know that’s not code for ‘hook up with you in secret, date a guy in public’?”

Shay seethes. “You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah,” Tyler says, “but I’m an asshole trying to look out for you.” 

Shay can’t say anything back to that. She feels like her head is caught in a whirlwind of emotions: anger, annoyance, disbelief. Her chest hurts, like something is binding her ribcage down and constricting her heart. She looks down at her half-eaten bag of apple slices, unable to even imagine swallowing one down now. 

_Is Tyler right?_ She even admitted to herself it all felt like a fantasy. Maybe everything is really too good to be fucking true.

“Shay!” she hears Marlon’s voice calling from down the hall. “Ty!”

“Look, we’ll talk more later?” Tyler asks in a low voice.

Shay doesn’t answer him, just looks up as Marlon strolls up to them. He has a huge smile on his face, and for a moment Shay feels like her anger is gonna explode. She just doesn’t get it, and maybe she’s jealous too. She tries to screw a smile onto her face, but all her past joy seems to have steamed out of her overheated ears. Marlon gives them both a fistbump, which Shay can only seem to half-heartedly deliver on.

“Guys, where have you been?” Marlon asks, smiling at them. “I feel like you both just disappeared this weekend.”

“College applications,” Tyler deadpans. “I’m thinking about Oberlin. Want that small, liberal arts feel.”

Despite herself, Shay snorts out a laugh. Tyler shares a small smile with her, but it’s not as reassuring as it should be. Just another conversation that goes nowhere, the true emotions underlying it swept away again. 

“Yeah, with that renowned Conservatory,” Shay says. 

“Come on, are you still on that shit?” Marlon groans.

Shay’s about to start ragging on him, joking around, when she catches sight of Megan and Zoya walking down the hall. Their heads are slightly down and close to each other, clearly in the middle of an intense conversation. Shay wonders if she should call out their names or something when Zoya looks up. They catch eyes, and Shay notices the slow smile that spreads across her face. In that moment, Shay has no doubt that Monique has told her everything. But it doesn’t freak her out; it just makes her smile back. Because it’s that, right there, that reminds her that what Monique feels for her is real. It’s not all a dream. 

Zoya nudges her head slightly, as if gesturing Shay over. Shay is about to get up, before she remembers who she’s sitting with. Megan is looking everywhere but at them, clearly feeling uncomfortable. Shay glances at Marlon and then Tyler, who seem too involved in roasting each other to notice this silent conversation happening across the hall. 

Shay nods back in a way that she hopes says, “let’s talk later,” and stays sitting down. Zoya frowns at first, and then seems to notice Marlon and Tyler. She nods back slowly, before turning to say something to Megan. Megan hesitates a moment than nods, before giving a little wave to Shay. Shay starts to smile back but then blinks in surprise. Megan walks off in the other direction, but Zoya comes strolling down the hall towards Shay.

“What’s up with Megan these days?” Marlon asks.

Shay tries not to startle. “Hmm?” 

Marlon looks at her with a calculated look on his face. “I don’t know. You guys still talk?”

Shay shrugs. “Not really.”

“Sure,” Marlon responds. “Okay. Just wondering.”

“Hey,” Zoya says when she reaches the group. 

“Hi?” Tyler says.

Zoya ignores him. “How do you think the test went, in Gov?”

Shay blinks, surprised. “Fine. Mr. Anderson always takes off on my essays though cause he says my handwriting isn’t ‘neat enough’ or whatever, so we’ll see.”

“Yeah,” Zoya says. “The last time he said my argument was ‘pedantic.’”

Shay snorts. “What an asshole.”

“Yeah. Anyway, just wanted to… check in real quick,” Zoya says, giving Shay an intense stare. “I gotta run. My friend Monique is out today, so I’m getting some homework for her.”

“Oh,” Shay says. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Zoya says. “She’s not feeling well, so she’s at home. Bored all day. Probably tomorrow too.”

Shay tries to ignore the looks that Tyler and Marlon are giving her. “Right. Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Zoya raises an eyebrow. “So I’ll catch you later.”

“Later,” Shay says.

Zoya turns her face slightly to give Marlon and Tyler slow, assessing looks before she stalks off. Marlon huffs out a low “what the fuck” and Tyler just stares at Shay, a disbelieving look on his face.

“What?” she shoots at him.

“What?” Tyler mimics. 

Shay rolls her eyes. “Fuck off.”

“Alright, am I missing something here?” Marlon laughs, but it’s not humorous. “Since when are you friends with Zoya Ali?”

“We’re not,” Shay starts to say.

“Then what exactly was that?” Marlon asks.

“Yeah, Shady,” Tyler says, “Why would Zoya come all the way here just to let you know that her BFF Monique isn’t in school today?”

Shay exhales loudly through her nose. “Weren’t you just saying two seconds ago that there’s no way her friends -”

Tyler cuts her off with a wave of his hand. “New information has been brought to the court.”

“What court?” Shay sputters. “What are you, Judger of the Gays now?”

“That’s fine,” Marlon says. “I love being kept out of the loop.”

Shay snaps, “I had a - like, a date this weekend with Zoya’s friend, Monique. That’s all.”

“And now Zoya is playing Cupid,” Tyler says. “Hmm.”

“There is no ‘hmm!’”

“Wait, you knew Shay was on a date?” Marlon asks, bewildered. “When did this happen?”

“This weekend,” Shay says. 

“Oh,” Marlon squeaks. 

It’s in the same awkward, uncertain tone that he always uses when Shay brings up a crush or finding someone hot. Tyler shoots her a look, but Shay ignores it. After being friends since they were in diapers, she’s just marked it down to like, the general weirdness of seeing your siblings start dating. Shay acted the same way when Marlon first started getting girlfriends. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Shay lies. 

“No, right,” Marlon says quickly.

“Why don’t we talk about Tyler’s hook up’s girlfriend barging in on them?” Shay says, a bit meanly.

“Oh, dude what?” Marlon swivels his head towards Tyler. 

When Tyler narrows his eyes at Shay, she just sticks her tongue out at him.

+++

**Monday, October 14, 4:51 PM **

_New message from: **Monique Cleaver **_

Hi

Zoya told me you were out sick

Maybe you shouldn't go swimming at midnight...

**8:32 PM**

lmfao

Hey

Knocked out from cold medicines?

Yeah lol

Sorry

Damn

You feeling okay?

I'll be fine

Just a small headcold lol

I can bring you some soup and nyquil if you want?

Tomorrow? 

We can watch a movie or something

**10:46 PM**

No it's ok

Don't want you to catch what I have 

Oh, ok

So I'll see you back in school

xoxoxo 

+++

**Wednesday, October 16, 12:43 PM **

_I am not fakin', not frontin', playin', baby, I want all of you_

_I am not takin' my time, not waitin', baby, just to stunt with you_

_I can make no promises 'cause I may just become a fool for you_

_I want your mind, you soul, your whole soul, I need to know_

_Is this cool with you, cool with you?_

Shay stares at the lunch options in front of her, wondering if it’s worth it to ask what mystery meat the chili is supposed to be. The lunch lady looks at her sympathetically as her stomach growls. Maybe she should just get a chicken sandwich instead.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she puts her tray down to read it. She sighs when she sees it’s her mom, and is almost tempted to not even read it. After hesitating a moment, she clicks into the text. Of course, it’s another Bible verse. 

_ Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths. - Proverbs 3:5-6. Have a great day honey. I love you. _

“That’s what you gotta bring lunch from home,” a voice says next to her.

Shay looks up to see Monique smiling at her, though there are dark circles under her eyes. Shay immediately smiles back, her stomach flipping with nervous excitement. Even in the crowded cafeteria, there’s something so sweetly intimate in their smiles. It’s like Shay can’t keep the grin off her face, even with Tyler’s voice nagging at the back of her brain. She shoves her phone back into her pocket. 

“Hey,” Shay says. “How’re you feeling?”

Monique says, “I’m alright. Really just tired, these teachers are ruthless with the catch-up work.”

“Yeah, they really don’t seem to give a shit,” Shay agrees. “It’s… you know, good to see you. And that you’re doing good. You don’t even sound like you had a cold.”

Monique pauses for a minute. “Right, yeah. I guess it was just one of those things.”

Shay grins again. “Yeah, and I bet you feel much better just seeing me.”

“Obviously.” Monique beams at her. "And hey, sorry for all my one word texts. I was just super exhausted and half high from the cold meds."

Shay shrugs, feeling warm. "Nah, nothing to apologize for. I get it."

"Okay, cool." 

They smile at each other for a few more minutes, neither one of them saying anything. Someone grumbles about Monique cutting the line, but then just moves around the pair of them. Shay tries not to roll her eyes. 

“Did you - uhm, do you want to eat together?” Shay asks, swallowing down her nerves. “My friends are just over there.”

Shay winces as she says it, her eyes roaming to Tyler and Marlon in the cafeteria. For a moment, she sees flashes of images across her eyes, mostly of the embarrassing possibilities that might go down if they do all eat together. Tyler would either be his regularly snarky self or attempt to embarrass Shay in the worst way possible. Marlon would most likely try to engage with Monique about the inherently sexist and capitalist nature of her dance team. 

“Or not,” Shay says quickly. “We could go somewhere else.” 

Monique groans, not seeming to notice Shay’s inner conflict. “I’d love to, but I’m headed back to the library for a make-up quiz. I only stopped in to see if you were here.”

The admission makes Shay warm, and she has to glance back at the mystery meat to make sure she doesn’t grin too dopily at her. 

“But we should go out this weekend,” Monique says. “If you’re free?”

Shay says to the meat, “Absolutely.”

“Cool,” Monique says. “There’s actually - have you heard about that party at that Kitten’s house? Lana, I think. It’s on Friday.”

Shay shrugs back at her. “Uhm, no, but that’s not really…”

Monique smiles. “Yeah, me either. I only know cause of Kesley. But would you wanna meet up there? And maybe we can… go somewhere quieter afterwards?”

“It might be too cold for night swimming again,” Shay says mischievously.

Monique’s eyes sparkle. “Maybe we can stumble into someone’s jacuzzi instead.”

“Deal,” Shay says.

“We should try to get lunch though,” Monique says. “I’d… like if it’s okay, I want to meet your friends. Since you already know all of mine.”

Shay bites her lip. “Yeah. and they know all about me, too.”

Shay thinks that Monique stares at her like she doesn't know if she wants to kiss her or throttle her in the middle of the cafeteria. 

“Don’t you have a test to go take?” Shay teases her.

Monique grins, a dimple popping out. “This isn’t over, Dixon.”

+++

**Thursday, October 17, 6:15 PM**

Shay leans against the garage door, fiddling around on her phone. They’re supposed to be having band practice soon, but Tyler and Marlon still haven’t come back from their McDonald’s run, and no one’s home to let Shay into the house. She sighs, scraping her sneaker back and forth against the asphalt.

She hears a door slam close by, and looks up to see Diana tripping out of her house, a clear plastic bag of recycling in her hand. She’s wearing loose dress pants and a short-sleeved button-down, the buttons undone down to the third button. As she comes closer to the curb, she waves at Shay. Shay waves back and watches her dump the recycling in the bins, before heading over to the hedges. Shay goes over to the plant barrier too, giving Diana a genuine smile.

“Hey girl,” Diana says. “Long time no see!”

“Yah, you never seem to be around when I’m here,” Shay says. “Busy?”

Diana nods. “I’m student teaching with taking classes and the schedule’s killing me. The perk of if is freaking out my principal with all my suits.”

Shay chuckles along because she thinks she’s supposed to. Something in her laugh must sound confused though, cause Diana just smiles patiently at her. 

“The principal is this self-describes liberal who’s very excited to have a triple minority on staff,” she explains. “But he keeps dropping hints that my... aesthetic doesn’t quite fit in with the other female teachers. Tough titty.”

“Oh,” Shay says. “So he’s like, a dick about it?”

“Yeah, but im used to it,” Diana says. “Fucking rough being a stud.”

“Yeah.”

Diana continues, exhaling roughly. “It’s like, it sucks cause no matter what I wear, I’m still in danger in this body. So it’s like, do I dress to conform in the hopes that I’ll be respected a teensy bit more, or do I dress how I like? You know?”

“Uhm,” Shay frowns. “I guess?” 

Diana sighs. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m all over the place today.”

“I mean… I guess I just don’t know what you mean exactly,” Shay says.

Diana thinks for a minute. “It’s like… you know, I’m not only a Black woman, I’m dark skinned and I’m gay as hell.”

“Right.”

“And ever since this country was founded by them wack ass colonizers and enslavers, bodies like mine have been used and heavily policed,” Diana says. “So it’s just like… it’s not like trying to dress like a feminine white woman is gonna help me get ahead, like not really. And most of the time it’s just fucking tiring to hide who I am by how I dress cause… like the reality is, bodies like mine are some of the most visible ones, no matter what I fucking do.”

Shay runs her hand over her hair. “I never thought about it like that. I mean, like, obviously I’m light skinned but… like people comment on my hair, like, all the time. Whether I had a weave or braids or now, it’s like… they think I’m public property.”

“Yeah.”

“And like… I’d love to dress like you do,” Shay says all in a rush. “But like… I don’t know. My mom almost killed me with this haircut, and she doesn’t even know that I’m…”

She clears her throat, suddenly embarrassed by how much she’s exposing about herself. Diana just smiles at her understandingly. For some reason, it makes Shay turn redder. There’s something about the look that doesn’t ease her, but makes her feel more agitated. She averts her eyes, her gaze landing on the hints of color peeking out from underneath Diana’s shirt.

“Uhm. Anyway,” Shay says awkwardly. “What’s your tattoo of?”

Diana glances down, like she’s forgotten she has a tattoo at all. She pulls her shirt back over her shoulder, exposing the entire thing. Shay leans in to get a better view of the colorful ink. It’s of two women embracing each other, bold shapes and splashes of color framing their bodies. 

“Who are they?” Shay asks, looking back up at Diana’s face.

Diana says, “Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera. The Mothers of Pride.”

“Oh yeah,” Shay says, recognizing the faces now. “Oh, that’s really cool.” 

“Yeah,” Diana says. “I think it’s important to honor our ancestors, remember what Pride really was.”

“It kinda sucks, you know, what Pride has turned into,” Shay nods. “Now it’s just a bunch of people making out, getting drunk, throwing glitter around. It doesn’t mean anything anymore.”

“Oh.” Diana pauses for a moment. “Yeah, I guess but that’s not really what I meant.”

“Oh,” Shay says.

“I’m talking more about like… how rich conservative white gays think marriage equality is the end all and be all while the rest of us are dying,” Diana says. “Especially Black trans women.” 

“But isn’t that like, one of the reasons why Pride sucks now?” Shay asks. “Cause of all those people who think it’s one big party instead of like, what it came from?” 

“I mean… yes and no, I think.” Diana pursues her lips thoughtfully. “Like… I think it’s true that Pride is mostly divorced from its roots, but I can’t knock the glitter either. There’s a lot of issues with what Pride has become but joy is revolutionary too.”

Shay shrugs. “I mean, I guess. But I just can’t get past all the liquor company floats and annoying straight girls anyway.”

Diana laughs. “Maybe at the major events like Austin Pride, but I guarantee some of the smaller events are actually made by and for the community. And like… a lot of people are doing a lot of good at Pride, too. Whether it’s intentional disruptions or just showing up with your rainbow flag, finally being able to represent who you are. Sometimes… it’s more about just being able to show up. And that’s revolutionary too.”

Shay tilts her head slightly. “You think so?” 

“‘Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare,’” Diana says with a slight smile. “Remember that next time you wanna diss the glitter bombs.”

Shay snorts. “Did you just make that up?” 

“No, that’s Mother Audre,” Diana smiles. “Hey, actually, I think you’d really like her poetry. I’m still unpacking but next time you’re here, remind me to loan you one of my copies.”

Shay looks at Diana, with her clothes and smile and hair and tattoo. She hears a string of honks coming down the road, and before she can say anything else, Marlon’s car is turning into the driveway. 

“Hey, I'll catch you later,” Diana says, smiling. 

Shay nods, looking back at Diana. “Yeah.”

Marlon rolls into the driveway, Tyler shouting that he got Shay a McFlurry and some fries but Marlon ate most of them. Diana snorts a laugh and turns back to go into her house, leaving Shay with her thoughts and her assumptions. 

+++

**Friday, October 18, 9:54 PM **

_New message from: **Dingleberries**_

_[Mar]_

Ty I'm outside your house

Shay we'll be at yours in like ten minutes 

Sounds good

_[Mar]_

Yk it's not too late to just grab a movie or smoke or something

_[_ _Tyler]_

Smoke the same weed you're always complaining about selling?

I'm sure we can get some for free at the party

_[Mar]_

I'm just saying

Do we really wanna be hanging out with a bunch of roided out jocks and drunk dancers 

_[Tyler] _

Yes

Yes

_[Mar]_

Fuck you guys

_[Tyler]_

I'm coming now

That's what she said 

+++

**Friday, October 18, 10:32 PM **

“I just don't get why exactly are we going to a Kittens party,” Marlon asks for the tenth time since Shay’s been in his car.

From her spot in the backseat, Shay rolls her eyes. She presses her face against the glass of the window, peering out they drive through this fancy ass neighborhood. In the front seat, Tyler blows smoke rings out the open window.

“For the free weed,” he retorts.

Shay meets his eyes in the rear view mirror, and they smile at each other.

“I can give you free weed,” Marlon continues. “Since when do we hang out with the dance team or football players or any of them?”

“So it’s only okay when we have to do that shit for you?” Shay throws at him. “I already told you. Monique invited us.”

Marlon rolls to a stop at the red light, shifting in his seat slightly. He shakes his head when Tyler offers him the joint, and then glances over his shoulder at Shay.

“I’m just saying,” he says. “I just don’t get it.”

Shay’s about to ask him what he means when the light turns green again, and the car jerks as Marlon puts it back into drive. She has to drop her phone on the seat beside her in order to throw her hands out against the seat in front of her to keep herself from crashing. Tyler curses, fumbling as he picks the joint up off his lap and brings it back to his lips. 

“Maybe focus on the road,” Tyler says. “Fuck, I hope I don’t have a burn mark.”

Marlon mutters something that Shay can’t quite hear, because he's reaching over to turn the volume up on the stereo. 

_If you feelin' like a boss bitch, go'n_

_Go to the club, leave that nigga at home_

_If you got your own shit, you ain't ever gotta listen to him, girl_

_Niggas be hatin' on bitches_

_You know these niggas be hatin' on bitches_

_You know these niggas be hatin' on bitches_

_You got your own shit, you ain't ever gotta listen to him, girl_

_Niggas be hatin' on bitches_

Marlon has to park a few houses down, the night brisk as they walk over to the party. The music blasts so loud that Shay can feel it reverberating in her bones. There are people sprawled all over the front lawn, drinking, hooking up, and throwing up. Shay has to nearly sidestep a guy who seems to be emptying the contents of his stomach into a snapback. 

Surprisingly, there’s a huge guy wearing a Bouldin football jersey blocking the doorway, drinking a Natty Light. When Tyler moves up to go past him, the guy snorts and pushes Tyler back. Shay feels her own hackles rising as Marlon asks him what the fuck his problem is. The guy eyes them up and down as if they’re something he stepped on.

“This party’s invite only,” he says.

Shay smiles at him humorlessly. “Right. Well, we’re on the list.”

“Sure,” the guys smirks easily. “Sure, okay. Twenty bucks.”

Shay stares at him incredulously. “Excuse me?”

“If you were really invited, you’d know there’s a cover,” he smiles with all his teeth. “So. Twenty. Each.”

Marlon scoffs. “You’re fucking nuts. I wouldn’t pay a cover to party with people I actually like.”

“Oh, is that right?” He shrugs. “Feel free to leave.”

Shay feels the panic rising in her. “Bro, come on. This is stupid, just let us in.”

“No, no,” Marlon cuts in. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. These assholes just want to make everyone feel inferior just because they know how to toss a ball around on some grass. We don’t need this bullshit.”

He turns to leave, and Shay feels a rash of anger spark in her. She goes to push past the football player anyway, but Tyler places a restraining hand on her arm. Shay glares. 

Tyler says, “it’s not worth it.”

“No, this is bullshit,” Shay says, her voice rising. “And I’m gonna fucking prove it -”

A flash of blonde hair and a bright pink dress appears at the door. Kelsey peers out at Shay, Tyler and Marlon, then back up at the wannabe bouncer. The smile falls off her face, and she starts glaring. 

“What’s going on?” She asks.

“This douchebag won’t let us in,” Shay says.

The douchebag scoffs. “Damn right. Look at them, Kels -”

“They’re with me, Jackson,” Kelsey say. “So stop being a dick and let them in.”

Her voice is hard as steel, leaving no room for an argument. It catches Shay completely by surprise; her jaw goes slack as she just stares at Kelsey. The football player stares at her incredulously. Kelsey raises one eyebrow and stares back at him, unperturbed that he’s almost a foot taller than her and probably weighs one hundred pounds of muscle more than her. 

“Kels -”

“I’m sorry, was I not clear?” She hisses, then turns to Shay. “Was i not clear?”

Shay grins a shit-eating grin. “You were crystal clear.”

“Right, I thought so,” Kelsey says, before looking back at the football player. “So what, are you just incapable of understanding because of too many blows in the field? Or - oh no, wait. Wasn't it you who's been warming the bench all season because you can't seem to stop fumbling?”

He turns red under the porch light, but finally steps out he way. “Whatever.”

“Come on in, guys!” Kelsey says, her voice perky and bright again. 

Shay starts to take a step forward, but pauses when she looks back at Tyler and Marlon. Tyler looks ready to follow her, but Marlon is still standing a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest. Shay gives him a pointed look, but he just shakes his head back at her. Shay feels frozen for a moment, just staring at him. 

“You serious?” She asks.

“Mar, come on,” Tyler says.

But the longer Marlon stands there, just looking at them like they should turn and follow him back to his car, the more Shay’s anger rises. She doesn’t understand why he can’t do this one thing for her, when she’s never complained about doing shit like this for him in the past. She’s always tried to stick by him, always went along when he asked her to, always has his back, always gritted her teeth and got through something ridiculous for him when he had a girlfriend. But suddenly, it’s too much for her to ask the same? 

Shay shrugs her shoulders at him and heads into the party.

_ No gyal can tell me 'bout my mother _

_ 16 shot, we go longer than a ladder _

_ Dem nuh fi talk 'bout the real don dada _

_ Put body inna pot dem a bun like grabba _

_ No boy can diss me or my mother _

_ Round here ain't safe, everybody need armour _

_ 16 shot, we go shotta any bluddah _

_ Rah-ta, rah-ta _

_ Ka-kah, ka-kah, ka-kah _

_ Rah-ka-ka-ka-ka-rahh! _

Finding Monique is no problem; Shay spots her in the middle of the living room, doing some kind of dance routine with Grace and Zoya. Shay slides to the side, her face growing warm as she watches Monique dance. Her movements are super fluid, as if she could do the routine in her sleep, and her body matches the beat of the music perfectly. Part of Shay wants to jump in and dance with her, and another part is content to just stand there and watch. Monique drops down low, arching her back and swaying like the music is a part of her. 

As Monique twists, she turns, staring right at Shay. Her mouth stretches into a wide smile, and then she winks. Shay grins back at her. Monique leans down, talking directly into Zoya’s ear; Zoya wags her hand at her, not bothering to miss her next step. Monique catches Shay’s gaze and then tilts her head towards the hallway.

Shay follows her as soon as she wiggles her way out of the living room, just a few feet between them. Monique peeks over her shoulder a few times, grinning devilishly at Shay, which makes her want to chase after her even more. They navigate though writhing bodies and out the back door. The yard is massive, with a few people idly smoking in pockets. Towards the center of the grass is some kind of gazebo thing, and Monique disappears into a corner of it. Shay grins, tripping up the stairs of it and peering inside. The entire thing is lit up with twinkle lights, illuminating the wood and Monique in a soft, yellow shine. 

Monique’s skin shines with sweat, even in the dim lighting; her smile stretched from ear to ear. She seems so damn bright, like she’s full of extra life, somehow. It makes Shay’s heartbeat stutter at the thought; it’s something that scares the fuck out of her and exhilarates her. She knows that she’s looked at other girls this way, has even looked at Monique this way; but it never occurred to her that someone could look at her in this way. Her heart thuds in a painfully sweet way. 

_See this ain't nuttin' that you use to_

_Out of the ordinary and usual_

_You got to have the mind of state like I'm so great_

_Can't nobody do it like you do_

_Miraculous, phenomenal and_

_Ain't nobody in here stopping you_

_Show no love 'cus you whut's up_

_Look at ya self in the mirror like what da fuck_

_Damn I look good and can't nobody freak it like I could_

_Yeah okay I got a little fat butt_

_My shorty tell me he like it like that_

“Whew,” Monique beams. “You look so damn good.” 

Shay self-consciously looks down at her cargo pants and slightly baggy shirt. She smiles dopily.

“Glad you like it,” Shay says. “You know, you looked really good, out there. Dancing. You dance really good.”

Monique bites her lip. “Oh yeah?”

Shay feels her face heat up. “Yes. I don’t know why you were complaining so much about Zoya making you join her team. You look so… happy.”

Monique shrugs. “Dancing is… there’s something about it that’s so freeing, you know? Like photography.”

Shay senses there’s something more. “But?” 

“But it’s also so… I don’t know. Public about it? I think I told you that. Dancing makes me so much more aware of myself then I want to be, maybe. And I just like… not having to focus on that, but on other people. I think I’d just rather being taking pictures of dancers rather than be on a dance team. I don’t know how you do it, up on stage all the time.”

Shay leans back against the railing, thinking for a moment. “I don’t know, either.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes it’s like I’m a different person, up there,” she admits. “Like… it’s like I can sometimes see myself performing? Like it’s not actually me up there, but someone who looks like me that I’m looking at from the outside. And it’s like… I like that girl more. She’s happy, she’s confident, she’s not letting anyone down.”

Monique pauses. “Well, I don’t know that other Shay, but I do like the one standing in front of me.”

Shay feels her body heat up slowly, warmth spreading through her from the tips of her toes all the way to her hairline. She suddenly feels both bold and bashful, and she’s not really sure how to take it. Monique’s smile softens, their eyes catching. Shay hesitates before leaning in slowly, placing her hands on Monique’s waist as she presses her lips against hers. Monique sighs gently, and then leans into the kiss. She tastes like a Black and Mild, which probably should be gross, but Shay just… likes it anyway. She moves closer to Monique, wrapping her arms more tightly around her. The kiss deepens, and Shay falls into it. 

Just as she tilts her head, she hears a low, long wolf whistle in her ear.

Shay springs back as Monique tears her lips away, both of them making irritated noises of surprise. Shay blinks up, expecting to see Tyler, maybe; instead, she sees the guys from the parking lot, Hunter, his face transformed into something like a leer. A mixture of emotions slowly dribbles over Shay: embarrassment, disgust, and horror. It’s not that she’s ashamed of being caught kissing Monique; it’s that a moment between them that was so private, so loving, has now become very public. She’s too shocked to say anything, but the longer the silence stretches on, the more exposed she feels. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but that was seriously hot,” Hunter nods his head at them. 

Even though her clothes are fairly modest, Shay feels utterly exposed. Beside her, Monique’s back in ramrod straight, and she glaring at Hunter. He doesn’t seem to get the silent message.

“If you want, we could...” he smirks at them. “We could move this inside. See what it’s like with a real man, if you want.”

The last bit seems targeted at Monique, as he belatedly gestures towards Shay and her outfit. Her face burns and she’s too angry to even speak. She can feel her hands curling into fists, the muscles within her trembling so hard that she’s scared of what she might do.

Suddenly, Monique turns to face Hunter fully. When she speaks, her voice sounds entirely too calm. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“I said, if y’all are down, so am I,” Hunter gives her a lopsided grin. “But it was just a joke, sexy.” 

“Oh, I know.” Monique says, slowly looking up at Hunter. “I know all about you and your little jokes, and how fucking nasty you really are.” 

Hunter pauses for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing like he can’t quite figure out Monique’s tone. He takes a tentative step forward, as if she had just issued an invitation and not a warning. Everything in Shay’s body screams at her to either get between the two of them or get out of there fast; yet all she can do is stand there, frozen as she watches the scene unfolds in front of her.

Somewhere to Shay’s left, something slams hard; metal onto wood. 

“Would you just leave me the hell alone already?” 

Hunter, Shay and Monique all jump at the furious scream, momentarily forgetting their own fight to look back towards the house. Shay catches a glimpse of Megan stalking off into the backyard, her hands in her hair like she wants to tear out every strand. Marlon is chasing after her, asking her to calm down so they can talk. Shay’s eyes widen with horror as Megan turns sharply, jabbing her finger back in Marlon’s direction. Even from a few feet away, Shay can tell that Megan’s been angry crying. 

“You can never do anything I ask of you,” Megan’s screeching. “Since July, I’ve told you that I needed space and not to contact me unless I call you first, and you can’t even fucking do that!”

“I don’t know what your problem is!” Marlon yells back, face turning red in frustration. “I followed your rules, but you know what? I’m done with that shit. I’m just trying to be nice to you, just trying to be polite, and you treat me like I - like I’m triggering you or something by saying hi, like -”

“You’ve never listened to me!” Megan screams. “It’s always about you, you never even -“

“Oh, so it’s back to this, right? That I’m always the stupid decision, that -”

“Hey!” 

The door slams open again, and Grace is running out of the house, right towards Marlon. Kelsey, Zoya, Jo and Tyler all race after her, each one of them calling Grace’s name. But Grace moves like a woman possessed, ignoring all of their voices. She yanks Marlon by the back of his shoulder, pulling him out of the way to stand between him and Megan. Shay startles, running a few steps out of the gazebo to defend Marlon, before she stops, catching the look of pure fury on Grace’s face. It feels like everyone on the lawn freezes as Grace pushes Megan behind her and begins to go off on Marlon.

“God, could you be anymore of a selfish twat?” she spits at him. “Just leave her the fuck alone already!”

Marlon’s face turns blood red. “This is none of your goddamn business, Grace!”

“It sure as fuck is!”

“Look, I know you hate me or whatever, but could you - could you take your own fucked up views of whatever you think I am and just get over yourself?”

“Get over myself?” Grace’s voice hits an octave that Shay didn’t know was possible. “Get over myself?” 

Tyler moves slowly, standing between Grace and Marlon. To Shay’s surprise, he faces Marlon, almost as if he’s protecting Grace. Shay sees the shock that falls over Marlon’s face, like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing either. When Tyler starts speaking, it reminds Shay of a similar moment in the spring, when she was about to go off on Grace in the courtyard. It’s pleading, almost protective. 

“Mar,” Tyler says softly. “Marlon. Come on. Let’s head out of here. Okay?” 

Marlon stares at him incredulously. “Are you - are you shitting me right now?”

“Marlon,” Tyler repeats.

“No,” Marlon says. “No. This is fucking ridiculous, you hate Megan, you hate Grace, and now what, you’re defending them? Because all of a sudden I’m the fucking bad guy?”

“No,” Tyler says, voice growing frustrated. “That’s -”

Before Tyler can finish, Shay hears Hunter’s voice somewhere behind her.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, “all of you have some fucking major issues. Could you please move this back somewhere else? This part of the lawn is occupied.”

The lawn goes silent as everyone slowly turns to look back at the gazebo. Shay feels herself blinking slowly, as if she’s moving through honey, as she looks up towards Hunter and Monique. Hunter looks genuinely frustrated, as if this whole argument has actually intruded on his chance to hook up with two girls. Monique’s lipstick is smudged and her eyes are deadly. Shay can only stand there and watch as Monique’s left hand curls into a fist. 

“Monique?” Zoya sounds confused and worried. “Hunter?” 

Monique keeps her eyes trained on Hunter. 

“You...” her voice is so low that Shay almost can’t hear what she’s saying. “You… are a disgusting piece of shit, and I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole, except to knock your fucking lights out.”

Hunter recoils. “Look, I don’t know why you’re being so hostile -” 

Shay sees Monique take a sharp inhale before her arm pulls back, and then she’s punching Hunter in the face. 

“Holy shit!”

Shay’s not sure whose mouth the expletive comes out of, but suddenly everything is happening all at once. Hunter grabs at his nose, howling in pain. Monique sweeps past him, running with heavy stomps back in the direction of the house. Zoya immediately sprints after her, Kelsey right on her heels. Shay barely noticing her body beginning to shake, the reality of everything that’s happened in the past few minutes finally setting in.

Hunter turns to her, eyes enraged, and starts to stalk down the gazebo steps towards her. Before he can reach her though, Jo is rushing up to Hunter, getting right in his face. She jabs at his chest with one long, acrylic nail. 

“What the fuck is your problem, dude?” She demands. “You think you can just talk to girls however you want?” 

It’s all too much, happening too quickly. Her heart feels like it’s beating impossibly fast, and there’s something in her throat stopping her from breathing properly. She turns towards the house, taking a few staggering steps. She thinks someone is calling her name, but there’s nothing but a low, whining sound in her inner ear. A mass of people have congregated near the back door, some of them with their phones out, all of them watching, for who knows how long.

It’s too much.

It’s all too much. 

Without her permission, her legs are moving again. She sprints towards the house, crashing through the crowd as she goes. She stumbles against the hallway, bumping her shoulder hard against the wall as she runs. She practically yanks the doorknob out of its socket once she reaches the front door, and trips down to the lawn. She just needs to get away, she needs to have space, she needs to be able to breathe -

She runs down the dark street, her lungs screaming in protest the same way she wants to scream at everyone involved in what happened. _How could that have even gone down?_ One minute she was in Monique’s arms and the next…

She wonders if she’s somehow deserved this, if past karma is coming for her finally, if she’s just not meant to be happy, to feel anything except anger and guilt and confusion, if everyone was right and now God is punishing her for being sinful, for being wrong, for being broken - 

She stumbles on a broken slab, crashing into the sidewalk, hard. Her hands scratch against the concrete as she throws them out to protect her face. The force of the impact fucking hurts, her skin skidding and her knees thudding. For a moment, she stays on the ground on all fours, breathing so hard she thinks she’s going to puke. 

Gingerly, she manages to turn herself over, sitting on butt as she brings her shaking hands up to her face. Her palms are slightly torn, gravel and dirt mingling with the bit of blood that’s there. Her face scrunches up, and suddenly tears are streaming down her face. She shakes, sobbing so hard that she’s sure everyone in the houses around her can hear her wailing. She tries to silence herself by biting down on her lip, hard. She closes her eyes and presses her eyes into her knees, trying to calm down, but nothing seems to be working. 

Through her tears she sniffs, fumbling around her pockets for her phone, the only thing on her mind calling an Uber to take her home. Her despair slowly turns to panic as she pats herself down, raw palms snagging on her clothes. Where the fuck is her phone? She knows she had it with her, she left the house with it and she had it in Marlon’s car when she - 

_ Uh, where the hell my phone? Where the hell my phone? _

_ Where the hell my, where the hell my phone, huh? _

_ How I'm 'posed to get home? _

_ Uh, where the hell my phone? Where the hell my phone? _

_ Where the hell my, where the hell my phone, huh? _

_ How I'm 'posed to get home? _

Shay doesn’t know how long she sits on the sidewalk crying before she finally manages to calm herself down. She looks back towards the direction she came in, not even sure exactly where the house party is. She had been running so blindly, following the sidewalks, that she could be anywhere. And without her fucking phone, she has no idea how to get home. Belatedly, she realizes that Marlon must’ve gone into the party to give her back her phone, after he spotted it in the backseat or something. 

She hesitates, snot still dribbling out of her nose. She presses a finger to one nostril and blows hard, snot flying onto the sidewalk. It’s disgusting, she knows, but it’s better than wiping her boogers all over her hand. She’s too exhausted to figure out what to do next, besides berate herself for being so fucking stupid. She has no idea how to get home, and she has no means of contacting anyone either. It’s how all them white girls get murdered in those horror movies, and she just knows she’s up next - 

Headlights flash further down the road, making Shay flinch. The car coming down the street starts slowing down, right near her. Shay’s heart starts pounding, and she twists, ready to get up and run up the lawn to the nearest house and pound on the door as hard as she can. 

“Hello? Do you need help?” 

Someone calls out from the car, and it slows to a stop a few feet away from her. Shay shifts, half crouching on the edge of the lawn, trying to peer past the bright headlights to whomever is leaning out the driver’s window. She hears the person fumble for a minute, and then the headlights shut off. A moment later, the light inside the car comes on. Shay’s heart pounds too quickly as she breathes hard and stares at Grace Olsen in surprise.

Grace leans her head out of the driver’s window, eyes just as shocked to see her.

“Shay?” she says. “Hey.”

Shay stays where she is. “Hi?”

“Do you...” Grace hesitates for a moment. “Need a ride home?” 

Shay is a bit more inclined to stay where she is then have to get into Grace Olsen’s car, but her common sense propels her back to straighten up and her feet to move forward. 

If anyone had told her at the beginning of the night that she’d be climbing into the passenger seat of Grace’s ride, she’d call them batshit crazy. As it is, she has to gingerly open the car door and hop inside, wary about her hands. They ache so badly that she wants to start crying again. Grace’s phone is set up near her steering wheel, Google Maps up and ready to navigate. 

“You must run really fast,” Grace says awkwardly once Shay’s inside with the door closed. “We’re kinda far from Lana’s house.” 

Shay folds her hands on her lap, trying not to shake. “Right. I’m a regular Flo Jones.”

“I don’t know,” Grace says with a tentative grin, “the nails are all wrong.”

Despite herself, Shay barks out a laugh, then stops. "Is that another lesbian joke?"

Grace seems confused. "What?"

"Nevermind."

Grace stares at her for a moment, before gesturing towards her phone. “If you wanna just put your address in here… or, if there’s anywhere else you want to go?”

Shay shakes her head no, reaching for Grace’s phone. She plugs her address in and then places it back in its case. She wants to curl up into a ball in her seat, but she’s not sure the seat belt stretches across her body will allow that much give. Grace starts the car up again. She glances at her screen and then begins to drive.

“I have antiseptic wipes in the glove compartment,” Grace says after a minute. “If you need them, for your hands. Just in the First Aid kit.”

“Of course you do,” Shay says, but there’s not that much bite to it. 

“Safety first,” Grace quips. 

As Shay begins to rummage through the glove compartment, Grace reaches over to turn the radio on. 

_My hands up, I let go, my mouth is getting cold_

_I know they come and go, la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la_

_My wrist is stuck on froze, places that I can't go_

_Niggas that I don't know, la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la_

_My hands up, I let go, my mouth is getting cold_

_I know they come and go, la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la_

_My wrist is stuck on froze, places that I can't go_

_Niggas that I don't know, la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la_

She keeps the volume down low, which Shay knows she’s doing in case Shay wants to talk. Even though it’s actually really sweet, something about this whole thing just bothers Shay even more; it makes her even grumpier. She gently wipes her hands off with the alcohol pads, biting down on her lip to keep from hissing. 

Even though she thinks it’d be more comfortable if she just stayed silent in her seat, Shay turns to look at Grace. Her eyes are directly on the road, with her back straight but her hands relaxed on the wheel. Shay’s always hated driving, and seeing how competent and composed Grace seems at it just makes her want to scowl. Logically, she knows that Grace Olsen has done virtually nothing to her to warrant the kind of sour feelings Shay gets from her. But there’s something about Grace that just… bothers Shay. Maybe it’s the way she just… seems so nice. Shay has never been that nice, at least not to people that aren’t her friends.

And sometimes, she’s not even that nice to them, she thinks guiltily. 

“Thank you,” Shay clears her throat, raw from all the crying she did earlier. “I’m lucky you found me. Marlon has my phone.”

“Oh,” Grace winces. “Oh, that could’ve been really bad.”

“Yeah.” Shay pauses for a moment. “So, you always stop for strays on your way home?” 

Grace glances over at Shay briefly before putting her eyes back on the road. “I mean, no, because there’s tons of creeps out here, but, if I see someone crying on the sidewalk, I’m gonna stop. I mean… I’d like to think someone would do that for me.”

“The person crying on the sidewalk could be faking,” Shay says, for some reason wanting to be petty. “They could be the creep.”

“I mean, I guess,” Grace says, then hesitates before her voice changes. “It’s a trap!”

Shay frowns at her. “What?”

Grace grins sheepishly. “Sorry. Admiral Ackbar.”

Shay stays silent.

“You know, from Return of the Jedi?”

“Sure.”

“Star Wars?” Grace chuckles sightly. “Sorry. Daniel and I binged the original trilogy when he came to visit last weekend. Weirdly... it's for a class he's taking on American imperialism."

Shay blinks at her.

Grace clears her throat. "Guess it’s still on my mind.”

Shay just stares at the side of her face. “Right.”

“But anyway, it’s the least I can do for someone else,” Grace says. “I also just… I know what it’s like to need to get out of somewhere, and fast. Thankfully I… I had my phone with me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t.”

The small, honest admission deflates Shay immediately. 

“Oh."

“Yeah, and I mean, look at how it worked out,” Grace says, a smile playing on her lips. “As far as I know, you’re not a reincarnation of Leatherface, so.”

The smile that spreads across Shay’s face is small, maybe too small to count as a smile. But it's genuine, and maybe that's what makes it count. 

+++

**Saturday, October 19, 12:03 AM**

_New Facebook Message from**: Marlon Frazier**_

Idk where you ran off too, but fuck Shay that wasn't smart.

I've been driving around looking for you but I can't do this all night. 

Anyway I have your phone, found it in my backseat. 

Figured you check your FB when you got home to your laptop.

Just message me here so I know you're not dead. 

**12:49 AM**

I'm alive

You walk all the way home?

No I found a lift

Fuck do you know how dangerous that could've been?

I'm aware

Fine. 

It's late and I'm tired so. 

I'll try to bring your phone by later but idk, I'm gonna be out with my parents and my sisters all day.

So you can just get it at band practice sunday.

Whatever

+++

**Saturday, October 19, 3:03 AM **

Shay sluggishly flushes the toilet, not bothering to wash her hands since she has band-aids all over her palms. She pauses for a moment, staring at her own reflection above the bathroom sink.

She looks like absolutely shit.

Her silk scarf half hangs off her head from her half-hearted efforts to tie it up when she finally made it back home. Her eyes are bloodshot with sleep crusties at all four corners. The bags under her eyes are puffy and pronounced, and her skin is incredibly sallow. She’s not surprised at how bad she looks; she had only slept for a couple of hours and it was anything but restful. 

She flicks the light off and trudges back to her room in complete darkness, ready for another couple of hours of half-consciousness. Just as she reaches her mother’s door she pauses, hearing a low, plaintiff voice drifting from under the doorframe. 

“Lord Jesus, help me get through this, help me overcome this pain and get through another night, if not me, for my child…”

Shay closes her eyes, resting her head against the door as she listens to her mother’s prayers for the pain to go away. She’s too exhausted to stir up any deep emotions, but the two most prominent ones are anger and disbelief. She doesn’t understand how her mother can still bother, after living with this chronic pain and illness for decades.

How she can still hold onto a faith so strongly when it hasn’t brought her anything, no matter how many times she petitions for God to help her? What’s the point, when life is just suffering all the time, when every time one good thing happens, it all crashes back down anyway? How many times has her mother praised God in church on Sunday morning, just to be unable to move by Sunday night? 

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord Forever. Amen, oh Lord Jesus, Amen.”

Shay opens her eyes to the darkness.

“Ma?” She whispers to the wood grain.

She says it too softly for anyone to hear, but her heart still aches when her mother doesn't respond. 

She opens the door slightly, padding into her mother’s room.

“Shay?” Her mother’s voice sounds drained. “I’m sorry if I woke you up, baby.”

“You didn’t,” Shay says. “I - can I sleep in here tonight?” 

She hears her mom shifting around in the bed, the small effort causing her to whimper in pain. Shay slowly goes over to the bed, curling up under the covers close to her mother. It smells like her lotion, some kind of vanilla mixture and Bengay. 

“You have a nightmare?” Her mother asks tiredly.

“Yeah.” Shay closes her eyes, just wanting the comfort of being a child again, back before she learned to be ashamed of who she was and angry at that shame. “Yeah, I did.”

_ I done been through a whole lot _

_ Trials and tribulations, but I know God _

_ Satan wanna put me in a bow-tie _

_ Praying that the holy water don't go dry, yeah yeah _

_ As I look around me _

_ So many motherfuckers wanna down me _

_ But ain't no nigga never drown me _

_ In front of a dirty double-mirror they found me _

_ And I love myself  
(The world is a ghetto with big guns and picket signs) _

_ I love myself _

_ (But it can do what it want whenever it want, I don't mind) _

_ I love myself _

_ (He said I gotta get up, life is more than suicide) _

_ I love myself _

_ (One day at a time, sun gon' shine) _

+++


	6. I'm Always Wrong But...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Two quick things:
> 
> OMG! I'm so sorry, I thought the Spotify playlist for this fic was being posted on every chapter summary automatically afrgrhegrey BYE! You can find the link to it [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4XWEfhgjaeWfyFsaLCuZwi), I usually update it before I post the new chapter. I'll be more conscious of posting this link on future chapters! 
> 
> Also thank you for all of your reviews, I'm honestly so humbled by them, and please believe me I cry as I write like 95% of the time so we literally all are in this together!
> 
> EDIT: one more quick thing LMAO. My plan is to keep updating on Saturdays/Sundays! I know I’ve been posting really late the last two weeks but I’ve had major assignments due so those took priority fkckcdkckc but I should be more on track for the upcoming chapters!

**+++  
**

**Saturday, October 19th, 12:13 PM**

_It's just one of them days, when I wanna be all alone_

_It's just one of them days, when I gotta be all alone_

_It's just one of them days, don't take it personal_

_I just wanna be all alone, and you think I treat you wrong_

Shay lays on the couch, staring up at the ceiling fan with no motivation to move or do anything. Her mind feels just as exhausted as her body, the hyper drive of emotions she went through last night and the sleeplessness rendering her as useless as a slug. She doesn’t even have the willpower to Facebook message Marlon on her laptop and ask him what’s up with him coming over today. She still can’t quite untangle the mess of what happened last night, and she doesn’t even know if she wants to. 

Shay rolls over onto her side, face smashed into the old throw pillow she’s been leaning on. Everything just happened way too quickly, and she’s not even sure where any of her feelings are right now. It’s not only the thing with Megan, Marlon, and inexplicably Tyler and Grace, but also the whole thing with Hunter and Monique. Part of her is still ashamed that she didn’t do anything, just stood there, frozen in the face of that asshole. But part of her is also just shocked at how quickly and easily Monique bounced into action, just punching him in the face. It’s not that she’s judging Monique, exactly; it’s just that she’s never seen such a reaction before. 

Just being able to so clearly express her emotions… Shay has never been able to do that. All her life, she’s had to push shit down, try to hide it as much as possible. Whether it’s so that she doesn’t disturb her mother or she doesn’t expose herself and burden her friends, that’s just… how it’s always been. And the times when she has been able to explode in anger or finally let herself go, she just feels guilty, all the time, afterwards. 

She rolls over onto her back again, thinking about how she screamed at Grace in the courtyard in the spring, how the look of confusion and completely unawareness on Grace’s face threw her off but she kept going anyway. It was only after Tyler told her to calm down and pull her away that she started to feel horrible about going off, and then got mad about feeling horrible about being mad. 

Fuck.

And what was that anyway with Tyler? As far as Shay knows, Tyler could care less about Grace. So why is it that he seems to always be defending her? What exactly is going on with them? Grace defending Megan makes sense, but nothing else does. Shay groans, knowing that sooner rather than later she really needs to talk to Marlon to figure out what the fuck was even going on with them last night. Because in all the fights they’ve ever had, she’s never seen Megan go off on him like that before. What was she even talking about? _You can never do anything I ask of you. Since July, I’ve told you that I needed space and not to contact me unless I call you first, and you can’t even fucking do that! _If this shit had been happening for months now, why hadn’t Marlon said anything to Shay? 

Shay rolls back onto her side, facing the inside of the couch. Her head throbs right behind her eyes, and she just wants to go back to sleep so she doesn’t have to deal with all of this bullshit fallout. But the longer she lays there, the more her anger builds up. In the back of her mind, she knows part of it is misguided, from a lack of sleep and her own warring emotions. But a bigger part of it is from old emotions, buried so deep that she half pretends they aren’t there half the time. She’s just so tired of not actually talking to her friends. She knows it’s not only Tyler’s fault or Marlon’s fault, that for too long she’s stayed quiet too. Because all they do is dance around the actual tough stuff; all they do is pretend to forgive each other and smooth things over, ignoring all of the bumps and bruises lurking below. 

When’s the last time they had an argument that ended in an actual apology? When’s the last time that they knew, really knew, what the fuck was happening in each other’s lives? 

Shay twists her body around, sitting up abruptly. She aggressively rubs at her face, ignoring the stinging pain of her palms as they scratch against her skin. She moves to get up off the couch; just as she does, the doorbell rings. 

The loud, sharp noise propels her into action. She stumbles to her feet, racing towards the door. Her heartbeat is going so quickly that she’s worried it’s going to burst with all the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She knows it’s Marlon, it has to be; her mouth is already opening to spill out all the things she’s been keeping inside, all the demands that she has for him to know what the fuck is going on, all the pain that she’s been ignoring ready on the tip of her tongue.

“We have to talk,” she says as she rips open the front door.

“Oh?”

Shay’s so caught up in her own emotions that it takes her a moment to register that it is in fact, not her best friend standing on the other side of the doorway. Monique blinks back at her in surprise, eyes wide and looking caught off-guard by the wave of emotions that must be radiating off of Shay. Shay stares back at her, just as shocked to see her standing in front of her.

“Monique?” she says dumbly.

“I -” Monique blinks back at her. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

It’s not that Shay deflates, exactly; it’s just that suddenly, all of her heightened emotions seem to go down to a low simmer. She can feel her shoulders dropping, the tense ache in her face retreating as she unclenches her jaw. Monique shifts from one foot to the next, looking stressed out and uncomfortable. She has tired lines all around her eyes, and her plain back hijab looks like it was tossed on last minute. 

“Zoya drove me,” Monique says at last, gesturing behind her. 

Shay peeks over her shoulder to see Zoya’s Hummer idling in front of her house. 

“You didn’t - uhm, all my calls went to voicemail -” Monique says. 

“I left my phone in Marlon’s car,” Shay says.

“Uh. Right. Grace told Zoya who told me this morning,” Monique says. “So, uhm, I asked Zoya to give me a lift. I just wanted - you know, I wanted to make sure that we were okay? I know it was intense last night -”

Shay mutters, “tell me about it.” 

“Sometimes I -” Monique swallows, hard. “Sometimes I get… really worked up, and I can’t - it’s hard for me to control my emotions, and then it… sometimes that freaks people out, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and then… like, I feel like we should talk about it, because… uhm, could I come in?”

Shay’s mouth goes dry. “Come in?”

“Yeah?” Monique’s face shutters with hurt. “I know… last night was… but I’d really like if we could talk about it?”

Shay’s heart begins to beat in an erratic pattern. Somewhere down the hall, she can hear the strains of whatever her mother is watching in her room. There’s no way that she can let Monique in, because - because what if her mom meets her? What if she starts asking questions, or Monique calls herself Shay’s girlfriend? What’s gonna happen the moment her mother sees Monique’s hijab, and starts pestering her about Jesus or some shit? Or what if - what happens when Monique sees her mom, in her raggedy house clothes with a thousand pill bottles, and starts asking questions? What is she going to say when Monique hears her mom yelling our prayers, trying to stop the pain that will never end? This - she can’t - out of everything she’s prepared herself for, it’s never quite been this.

“Shay?”

“No,” Shay hurriedly. “No, no, I - I can’t right now.” 

Somewhere behind her, Shay hears the sound from the television cut off down the hall. Immediately, her body stiffens, and then she hears the telltale shuffling of her mother’s slippers against the floor. Panic suddenly seizes Shay, fierce and white hot. Shay steps closer to Monique. She catches the Monique’s eyes flash with confusion and anxiety. Monique takes an unsteady step backwards, out of the doorframe. 

“No,” Shay repeats herself too quickly. “I - no. I can’t do this.”

“Shay?” Her mother’s voice comes closer. “Who’s at the door?” 

Shay shouts back, “Jehovah’s Witness.”

Monique’s eyes widen in a way that would be funny if Shay didn’t feel like her whole life was about to fall apart in one minute. She shoots a pleading look to Monique, hoping she’ll just get the hint and go away. This is something that can be explained away to her later, Shay reasons furiously with herself. She hears her mom let out a weak sigh.

“We already got Jesus in this house, thank you very much,” Her mother calls out.

“I just -” Shay shakes her head furiously, closing the door. “I can’t do this with you.” 

The door clicks shut just as her mom comes into the living room, peering tiredly at Shay. Shay turns to face her fully, a barrier between her and the front door. Her heart stutters loudly, blood rushing way too quickly in her veins. Her mother stands there for a moment, before shaking her head. 

“I know they’re just trying to spread the Good Lord’s words, but damn can they be annoying sometimes,” she says.

Shay lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

Her mother shuffles over to the couch, collapsing onto the cushions. 

“Make me some tea, baby?” Her mother asks. “I’m just - it’s too hot in the kitchen.”

Skirting around the truth, like always. 

Shay can see the little beads of sweat forming on her hairline, her wig slightly askew. She’s wearing her nice house clothes, with the sheer wrapper, and Shay wants to cry looking at her. It’s the way her mother still pretends at some kind of normalcy when she can barely move that gets to Shay. Looking at her exhausted mother, Shay feels the tears welling up in her eyes. It’s like looking into a mirror, with the struggling and the pretending. She presses her lips together to keep from falling apart, then turns to put the kettle on. 

_See I try to hide the fact_

_That I'm am just a fragile individual (so)_

_I give off this facade that I'm so hard_

_When in fact I'm far from unbreakable_

_I'm so afraid to talk and express myself_

_Keeping all my feelings bottled inside_

_Of this softer shell that I call my heart_

_Cause I can't let love back in again_

+++

**Sunday, October 20, 1:58 PM **

_You don't want zero problems, big fella!_

_Yep!_

_If one more label try to stop me_

_It's gon' be some dread head niggas in ya lobby_

_You don't want no problems, want no problems with me, bih!_

_You don't want no problems, want no problems with me_

_Just another day, had to pick up all the mail_

_There go Chano ridin' through the streets, they be like, "There he go!"_

_You don't want no problems, want no problems with me, bih!_

_You don't want no problems, want no problems with me_

_Just another day, had to pick up all the mail_

_There go Chano ridin' through the streets, they be like, "There he go"_

The first thing Marlon says to Shay is, “you’re pretty popular.”

He hands her phone over to her, not bothering to get up from his spot on the garage couch. Tyler stands near the synthesizer, slightly bent over it with his notebook open on the keys. Shay turns her phone over in her hands once before turning it back on. The smell of grilling burgers and vegetables floats through the garage. 

After it loads up, the telltale dings of missed calls, texts, and voicemails sound around the garage. Her stomach twists itself in a knot uncomfortably as she sees all the missed calls and text messages from Monique. She scrolls through them, the knot moving up to her throat as she does, thinking about how she treated her the day before.

_Hey, can you call me when you see this?_

_I didn’t mean to just blow up like that_

_Not that he didn’t deserve it that fucking dickbag_

_But still_

_I’m really sorry if I freaked you out or anything?_

_And that I literally just ran away_

_I really had a good time with you before all that happened and I’m just really sorry_

_Also sorry if this is all too much right now_

_I don’t mean to crowd you or anything _

_I’m just super worried  
_

_I’m sorry._

Shay swallows hard, because she just doesn’t know what to do now. There’s something belatedly embarrassing about reading the messages; it reminds her of begging Megan to talk to her again. The major difference, of course, is that Monique hadn’t done anything wrong. 

She gnaws on the nail of her thumb, deciding to just give herself some time to deal with it later. She’s already so high strung about what happened with Marlon and Tyler that she just… can’t deal with this right now. She just needs to focus on her boys now and figure out everything else later. She turns to Marlon and Tyler, opening her mouth to ask what was going on Friday night, when Marlon starts speaking first.

“Alright, so I know there’s an elephant in the room about this whole mess,” he starts.

Her heart skips a beat for a moment, surprised that he’s bringing this up first. 

“And it looks like it’s just a dub,” Marlon says. “Every time I call the venue, it just goes right to voicemail.”

“There’ll be other venues,” Tyler agrees, not looking up from his notebook.

Shay stares incredulously. “That’s what you think the elephant in the room is?”

Marlon blinks at her owlishly. “Huh?”

“Are we just gonna not talk about what happened Friday night?”

The silence stretches so thin that Shay wishes, for once, it would just snap. She throws her phone on the couch, almost clipping Marlon’s elbow. He shifts, getting up to go towards the drum kit. 

“I mean… what about Friday night?” Tyler asks. 

“Oh, okay,” Shay rolls her eyes. “So we’re just gonna ignore everything that went down. Right.”

Marlon sighs. “It’s not that serious.”

“So Megan screaming at you in the middle of a party is nothing?” Shay asks. “Or Tyler inexplicably defending Grace is nothing? Or what about the fact that we had a fight outside Lana’s house?”

“That wasn’t a fight,” Marlon says, not meeting her eyes. “We both just got caught up. It’s nothing, I forgive you, whatever.”

“You… forgive me?” Shay stutters. 

Marlon doesn’t seem to hear her. “And the stuff with Megan - Ty and I talked about it, it was nothing.” 

“You guys talked about it?”

Tyler shrugs. “We just talked about how Megan is like, a negative thing in his life and maybe it’s better that she doesn’t want him talking to her anymore.”

“I -” Shay stops speaking because frankly, she doesn’t know what to say. She feels like she’s fallen into some strange alternative timeline, except it’s too eerily normal to be anything but real life.

“It’s not a thing,” Marlon adds. “She’s been acting crazy for a while now. Remember when she tried to kiss you?”

The blunt reminder, said so cavalierly, strikes Shay right in her chest. A few months ago, when she told Megan she was over it, she meant it. But for Marlon to bring it up when it has nothing to do with what they’re talking about, just to what, make a point, feels so incredibly mean. Especially when they’ve never talked about it, never brought up the implications of why it happened.

“So, you not telling us that Megan asked you to stop talking to her in July, what that has to do with her just being ‘crazy’?” Shay snaps.

That gets Marlon’s attention, and he glares up at her. 

“Look, Shay, I don’t know what your issue is, but you’ve been acting fucking weird for weeks,” he says. “And I haven’t said anything because -”

“Because you never say anything!” Shay bursts out. “None of us do, we all just have these fights and get passive aggressive and then pretend nothing’s wrong!” 

“Nothing is wrong!” Marlon insists. “At least not with me.”

“Mar -” Tyler starts to say.

“No, because I wanna know what Shay is trying to say here.” 

Shay throws her arms out. “We’re in this stupid band together, we write music together, we always talked about changing the world together, but we don’t even communicate with one another!”

“How can you even say that?” Marlon asks. “We always listen to each other -”

“Do we?” Shay asks. 

Once she opens her mouth, it’s like the floodgates are opened. 

“Do we really? Because I just feel like no one talks enough to listen! When you and Tyler talked about Megan, without me, did you talk about how much of that shit is your fault too? Did you talk about why you’re applying to the colleges she is, or why she’s ‘crazy’ suddenly? Or did you talk about Tyler at all? And how he’s jumping from guy to guy, all of them assholes and in relationships, but how he always plays it off like it’s - like it’s funny or something that he’s being treated that way?”

Tyler’s face turns red. “That has nothing to do with anything -”

“It has everything to do with this!”

“I can handle myself,” Tyler snaps. “I’ve been handling things, and I can keep doing that.”

Marlon jumps in. “And - and what about you, Shay? You’re standing here, yelling at us, when you’re the biggest hypocrite ever!”

“Excuse me?”

“You stand there and you say you wanna talk, but if you really wanna talk about it, let’s talk about you,” Marlon says. “Shay. You’ve been ditching us constantly, all because of your new little friends and this new girl, and it’s getting old. What, we’re just supposed to wait around for you to put us in your schedule?”

Shay’s voice raises. “Excuse me? What the fuck, Marlon?”

“And then, God forbid someone says something you don’t wanna hear, you just get - get hysterical.”

“Hysterical?”

“I don’t know where the hell your head’s at, but it’s not here,” Marlon says. “We’ve known each other since we were kids, and I’ve never seen you act like this before. You wanna talk, fine, but don’t act like you’re just the victim here.”

“Right,” Shay seethes, “because I’m just the irrational chick, God forbid I wanna actually talk about my feelings or not be so chill when shit is bothering me all the time!”

Tyler bursts out, “God, that’s not even what he’s saying!”

“Naw, you know what, fuck this,” Shay snaps. “I’m tired of this fake woke, actually macho bullshit about having to keep calm or whatever and never getting to the bottom of anything. Call me when you wanna be real about it instead of just singing about it.”

_I left a nigga on read 'cause I felt like it_

_Dress me down in that Raf, Saint Laurent jacket_

_Dapper, dapper, I look fine and my checks divine_

_No wonder, wonder why I do whatever I like_

_I do what I like, I do, I do_

_I do what I like, I do, I do_

_I do what I like, I do, I do_

_I do what I like, I do, I do_

She scoops her phone up, stomping out of the garage. Tyler calls after her, but Shay ignores him, stalking down the lawn and towards the sidewalk. She’s so steamed that when she turns to stomp down the street, she almost crashes right into Diana. 

“Whoa!” she says, throwing her arms out to steady Shay.

There are a bunch of reusable grocery bags hanging off of her arms, filled with chips and condiments. Shay breathes out slowly, trying to calm down. She forces a smile onto her face, but she’s sure it just looks like she’s baring her teeth. Diana winces back at her. Shay sighs.

“You look like you needs some sangria iced tea,” Diana says. “Come on.”

Somehow, Diana manages to loop her arm and her bags of chips around Shay’s, dragging her towards her hose. They trapeze up the lawn and past the front door. Shay sighs, just letting herself be herded into the house, and wondering why it is, again, that neither of her best friends has followed her to make sure that she’s okay.

Shay doesn’t know why it surprises her, but the house is neat and tidy. As they walk through the dining room to get to the kitchen, Shay mostly notices that none of the furniture matches and there’s dozens of art prints in all mediums littering the walls. When they get to the kitchen, Diana tosses all of her bags onto the table, knocking her hip into Shay’s so she’ll sit down on one of the chairs. 

Shay slumps onto a red bar stool, watching as Diana rummages around in her fridge and then the kitchen cabinets. She emerges with a glass of iced tea with a bunch of fruits on the bottom and a glittery, pink swirly straw. She sips on it as Diana starts unpacking everything. The door to the backyard swings open and Jamie comes through, a streak of charcoal on their forehead. They throw Shay a sympathetic look.

“Damn girl,” she says. “Your friends, they serious with that bullshit?”

Diana’s face shifts in surprise, and Shay slumps even further, embarrassed that their argument had carried so far into the neighbor’s yard. Jamie shakes their head as they start compiling bags of chips into their arms. 

“Seriously fucked up,” they say. “And they’re two white boys too? Your back must hurt from all the emotional labor you gotta do to maintain that thing.” 

“Jamie!” Diana snaps. 

Jamie blinks in surprise. “What? All I’m saying is that a lot of them can talk the talk about equality and shit and then continue to be misogynist and racist douches.”

“Tyler’s actually Cuban,” Shay mutters in a half-hearted defense. “And gay.”

She catches both the unforgiving and disapproving look on Jamie’s face and the curt, pointed glance that Diana throws them. Jamie shakes their head, muttering an apology and disappearing through the back door again. Diana turns her eyes upward as if asking for absolution, and then drops into the folding chair besides Shay.

“Subtlety isn't one of their strong suits,” she says. “Sorry for that.”

“It’s fine,” Shay mumbles.

Diana gives her a soft look. “You wanna talk about it?”

Shay groans. “It’s all fucked up. I don’t even know how it all happened.”

“When my grandpa died we found out he had a whole secret family who wanted to keep his car,” Diana says. “Bet you it’s not as bad as that.” 

Shay can’t even manage a chuckle. “Mar and I got in a fight last night beside I wanted to go to a party and he didn’t. This douchebag wasn't gonna let us in, but - anyway. So I went in cause I wanted to see Monique -”

Diana grins. “Ya boo thang?”

Shay groans. “Yes. Or no, I don’t know. Anyway then I go inside and Monique and I start making out, but then this asshole tries to like - get with both of us -” 

“Gross.”

“Yeah and so that happens. Then Megan - that’s Marlon’s ex, who I also… like used to have a crush on - comes running out with Mar chasing after her and they have this huge fight, and then Megan’s friends get into it, and then Tyler comes at Marlon, and then Monique punches the asshole in the face, and just, like, it’s all fucked up.” 

“Oh wow,” Diana says. “Shit.”

“Yeah, and Mar and Ty don’t want to like, talk about any of it, and I’m just pissed cause they never want to talk about shit, ever. And I’m tired of carrying so much shit around, you know? And it's not just this, like but it's been happening for so long, they just brush everything under the rug.”

Diana hums. “I get you.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” Shay asks. “I just - I feel like I have to hide my feelings from everyone, I can’t be myself at home really, and I can’t at school, and now I can’t with my boys either?”

“So you’ve explicitly told them you want to communicate better? That you feel like you can’t rely on them anymore?”

“I shouldn’t have to say it,” Shay says. “I can’t be the only one who feels that way.”

“I mean, no,” Diana says. “But honestly maybe they don’t realize it. Or maybe they’re worried it’s all in their head or something. Or maybe they don’t know how to ask.”

“But it should be easy.”

“If it's so easy, why haven't you brought it up yet?"

Shay huffs at her.

"Girl, I'm just saying, sometimes it's harder than it looks, no?" 

“No,” Shay says stubbornly. “That's not it at all. It's that they’re acting like dickwads.”

Diana folds her lips like she’s trying not to laugh. “Okay, fair."

"Thank you."

"And usually I would say it’s also fair to drop people who aren’t treating you right," Diana says. "But there’s also some people that you just keep trying with because you love them. And maybe there’s a side of things that you don’t know for them, either. Everyone has bullshit, and at your age, sometimes it’s hard to talk about. And it's easy to treat your friends like shit cause... you just believe that the people you love will always be there no matter how terribly you treat them.”

Shay sighs. “I guess.”

Diana pokes her in the arm. “Or you can drop them and refuse to be friends with them anymore.”

“That’s not a bad option,” Shay mutters.

“You and I both know that’s bullshit,” Diana says. “Some people are worth fighting for, and I think they’re that for you.”

Shay lowers her eyes down to her drink, swirling the soggy fruit around with her straw.

"You called this sangria but I can't even taste the alcohol," Shay says.

"That's cause there is no alcohol. I'm not giving a minor a drink, boo!" Diana says pointedly. "Anyway, don't change the subject."

"I'm not!"

"Yeah you are, and weren't you the one just talking about your friends avoiding hard conversations?"

Shay viciously stabs at the soggy fruit. 

“I’m not saying march over right now, Shay. You have a right to be angry. And you take some time to figure out what you want to say and what you need from them,” Diana says more gently. “But don't just put it off. Don't just cancel them or whatever.”

“Yeah,” Shay says without much conviction. “Okay.”

Diana remains quiet for a moment, looking at Shay critically. Shay’s not sure what she’s looking for, in the tired lines of her face. 

“Is that the only thing that’s bothering you?” Diana asks. “Not to minimize that shit, but it seems like more than a fight with your friends. Did something happen at home?”

Shay sighs. 

“I see,” Diana says.

She says it in a way that makes Shay think she really does see, but everything is still too raw and tangled and fucked up that she doesn’t want to talk about it right now. She doesn’t even want to think about Monique, the guilt she’s feeling weighing heavily on her heart. Why does she keep just managing to fuck up with so many people in her life?

She’s never going out on a Friday night again.

“I fucked up with Monique,” Shay says. “She came to my house, and I panicked. Slammed the door right in her face.”

“Your family doesn’t know you’re a lesbian,” Diana says, a statement of fact.

Shay wants to curl up in a ball. “No.”

“And she didn’t understand that?” Diana asks. “When you told her?”

Shay hesitates. “I haven’t explained anything to her yet.”

Diana winces. “Ouch.”

“I just don’t know how,” Shay says. “Because it’s - it’s not just that. I also… my mom is… she’s really sick. And I was… I don’t know. Embarrassed.”

Diana pauses for a moment. “Cancer?”

Shay shakes her head no. “Sickle cell.”

“Ah,” Diana says softly.

“Am I a shit person for that?”

“I guess it depends on why you were embarrassed,” Diana says.

“I don’t know,” Shay admits. “I mean, besides the fact that I was worried she’d tried to convert her. That would’ve been a fucking nightmare.”

“Convert her?”

“My mom’s like, a Bible-thumper,” Shay says. “And Monique is Muslim.”

Understanding dawns in Diana’s eyes. “And I’m guessing that’s also why you’re not out to her yet.”

“She sends me Bible verses like, every day,” Shay says. “She’s always talking about Jesus and really active in the church and all that shit. She’d probably disown me or send me to conversion camp.”

“Has she said that to you?” Diana asks. “Or said that about other gay people?”

“No, but it’s not like she’s running around waving the rainbow flag either.” Show frowns. “And it’s not like she tells the other church ladies to be quiet when they start talking about how ‘fags are going to hell.’” 

“Well, you know her better than I ever will,” Diana says after a pause. “And I’m sorry that you have to hide who you are.”

"I just don't know why everything has to be so hard," Shay says. 

Diana smiles wistfully. "Don't I know it."

Shay takes a long, slow drink of her sangria iced tea.

“Do your parents know that you’re gay?” she asks. 

Diana’s smile seems unsurprised. “Yeah, they know. It wasn’t easy but... there’s other family I know I can rely on.”

“Did you have a girlfriend, first?” Shay asks. “Before you came out to them?”

“I did it before I got my first girlfriend,” Monique says. 

Shay frowns. “But why?”

“Why, what?”

“Well, it’s not like you were bringing someone home, right? So like… why did you risk it?” Shay asks. “Weren’t you worried about… about losing them?”

Diana hesitates. “I mean, for me… like I said, I have other people I can live with, get support from. When I told my parents I… I wanted them to know who I was, who I am. And if losing them was the consequence, then so be it. But… you know, I don’t know, if it turned out differently if it’d be worth it. It’s hard to say, and easy to judge. At a different time, maybe I’d just be an eccentric tomboy to them.” 

“But you’re not,” Shay says. “You were brave enough to just be yourself. Like you were saying, about Pride and stuff.”

“I mean...” Diana says, “That... is what I said, you right.”

Shay raises an eyebrow at her.

“But… and okay, maybe I’m a hypocrite, but I don’t think it’s always a matter of bravery, or you know, sometimes bravery’s not all it’s cracked up to be. For some people, keeping their family is more important than being out to two more people. And I think that’s okay, too. Like, it’s different for a lot of us than it is for white people. And I don’t think that makes us any less who we are.”

Shay stays quiet. 

“I wish I could give you all the answers,” Diana says. “But I don’t know half of it myself.” 

“I don’t know any of it,” Shay says.

Diana sighs. “Shall I leave you with another quote from Mama Audre?”

Shay glances over at her. 

She recites slowly, “When we speak we are afraid our words will not be heard nor welcomed… but when we are silent we are still afraid… so it is better to speak remembering… we were never meant to survive.”

+++

**Monday, October 21, 9:02 AM**

_In the night, I hear 'em talk_

_The coldest story ever told_

_Somewhere far along this road, he lost his soul to a woman so heartless_

_How could you be so heartless?_

_Oh, how could you be so heartless?_

_How could you be so, cold as the winter wind when it breeze, yo_

_Just remember that you talkin' to me though_

_You know need to watch the way you talkin' to me, yo_

_I mean after all the things that we've been through_

_I mean after all the things we got into_

_Hey yo, I know of some things that you ain't told me_

_Hey yo, I did some things but that's the old me_

_And now you wanna get me back and you goin' show me_

_So you walk around like you don't know me_

_You got a new friend, well I got homies_

_But in the end it's still so lonely_

Shay’s stomach cramps uncomfortably as she walks down the hallway, her hoodie up over her head. In a fit of self-pitying, she’s decided to wear the baggiest grey hoodie and camo pants that she owns. She just wants to get through the fucking day pretending neither she nor anyone else exists.

As soon as she turns the corner to get to A.P. Gov though, she spots Zoya and Monique whispering in front of the room. Their heads are bowed together and Monique is making frantic hand gestures, so Shay knows it has to be serious. A wave of shame crashes down on her as she thinks about how she treated Monique over the weekend. She’d been so caught up with shit from Mar and Ty and just feeling sorry for herself that she completely forgot to text Monique and explain herself, or apologize, or… something. 

Fuck.

They both look up at her with twin looks of cold disdain once she hovers by them, clearing her throat awkwardly. The hard look on Monique’s face just makes Shay’s heart start thumping in a panic, and there’s so many things she wants to say, wants to do, to get that look off of her face.

“Hey,” is what comes out of her mouth. “Hey, uhm…” 

“Hi.” Monique says curtly, before turning completely to face Zoya.

It’s such a clear dismissal that Shay’s ego tells her to just go into the classroom and accept the cut. But instead, she shifts so that she’s back in Monique’s range of sight.

“Hey,” she says again. “Hey, uhm, how are you?"

It feels like an asinine question the moment she asks. Zoya and Monique just blink back at her for a moment, confirming Shay's thoughts. 

“Fine.”

“Do you, uhm…” Shay trudges on.

"Do I what?"

It's on the tip of Shay's tongue to ask if Monique wants to go somewhere more private to talk, but nothing quite comes out of her mouth. Her lips and throat feel too dry, at complete contrast to her overly sweaty back and hairline. Last year, she has been so quick to condemn Megan for trying to pretend like nothing happened when she kissed her. Hell, just this weekend she had chewed out Marlon and Tyler for just ignoring their problems. But here, now, with Zoya staring daggers into the side of her skull, she can’t manage anything else. Monique’s frown shifts as her lip curls up in disgust. 

Monique pointedly looks at Zoya. “I’ll see you later, girl.”

She walks off, leaving Shay standing next to Zoya with her heart thudding painfully. Zoya eyes her up and down once coldly before going into the classroom. 

_Well you know I'on have a problem with nobody_

_This is what I was saying_

_If anybody got a problem with me_

_Then we could get it poppin'_

_And this is whatever_

_You got your own opinion on me?_

_I do not give a fuck what you think_

Zoya won’t stop glowering at Shay over their work packet. Slumped low into her seat, Shay can barely focus on the questions in front of her, and having Zoya stare her down just puts her in a worse mood. She tugs her hoodie up further over her head to avoid the glare; Zoya simply sits up, staring at her even more intensely. Kelsey clears her throat, saying something about clear and present danger. 

“Can I help you?” Shay finally snaps. 

“You gotta lotta damn nerve,” Zoya retorts back.

“Uhm, maybe we should focus on -” Kelsey tries to say.

“Jehovah’s Witnesses?” Zoya asks. “Really?”

Shay’s face burns. “That’s none of your business -”

“My friends are my business,” Zoya says. “And you fucked up. Big time.”

“I -”

Zoya says, “Monique isn’t some plaything for you to jerk around when it’s convenient for you.”

Shay sits up. “Jerk her around? You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

”Oh no?” Zoya glares at her. “Then feel free to enlighten me on how different you are from any of the other girls who thought it was real cute to kiss Monique at parties and then turn around and act like you don’t know her anywhere else.”

”That’s not what happened,” Shay insists. “Not at all. And I’m not gonna sit here and be judged by somehow who has no fucking idea what goes on in my house!” 

Zoya’s glare narrows. “Look, I’m not pretending like I know your business. But whatever it is that’s going on, it doesn’t excuse your radio silence. It took Mo a lot of guts to show up at your house and you couldn’t even give her a fucking phone call or text message this weekend to explain yourself or apologize for slamming the door in her face or anything. Mo deserves better than that shit.”

Before Shay can respond, the loudspeaker crackles to life.

“Will Shayla Dixon please report to the principal’s office, Shayla Dixon to the principal’s office.”

“Fuck,” Shay mutters.

Mr. Anderson comes around to their table, glancing down at Shay. 

“Make sure you get notes from your group about what you miss,” he says. “And I still expect your packet on my desk by the end of the day tomorrow.”

“Whatever,” Shay mutters.

“Not whatever,” Mr. Anderson says. “This is for your own grade, Ms. Dixon, not mine. It’s no skin off my back if you fail, which will happen if you don’t watch your attitude.”

Shay sees Zoya open her mouth and then snap it back shut. Kelsey glares up at Mr. Anderson, gripping her pencil so hard it looks like it might break. At another time, she might be pleasantly surprised at the solidarity. Now though, she’s just tired and welcome for the interruption from Zoya’s questioning. 

She gathers up her stuff without another word and slinks out of the room. Walking down the hallway, she drags her fingertips along the walls, the different sensations of plaster, locker metal, and corkboard sliding against her fingertips. On another day she’d be curious about what’s happening, but today she figures it probably has something to do with Mrs. Mendoza and her college application, or some shit.

When she pushes open the door to the principal's office though, the administrative secretary is giving her a sympathetic look. Shay raises her eyebrows back at him, just as Ms. Johnson, the principal, and her father walk into the room. Shay freezes, just taking in her dad’s long gait and exhausted, dark eyes.

“Dad?” she asks in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“And here she is,” Ms. Johnson says in a soothing tone. 

Shay’s dad comes over to her, enveloping her in a tight hug. He pulls away before she can fully put her arms around him, and Shay’s confused mind tries to catch up. She steps back, looking up into his face; realization dawns on her. Dread slinks down her back like an egg yolk being cracked over her head.

“Ma?” 

“She’s fine,” her dad says, “but she is in the hospital -”

“Then how is she fine?” Shay demands.

“It’s just to treat a small infection,” her dad says. 

“You’re pulling me out of school for a small infection?” Shay tries to keep her voice even.

Ms. Johnson glances between Shay and her father. “You know, this seems like a personal matter, why don’t you -”

“She was fine when I left this morning,” Shay says. “She was - she was tired but fine.”

Then, she hesitates. Was her mom fine this morning? She was still sleeping when she left, but she hadn’t heard any more complaints from her when she got back home last night. She hadn’t even bothered to go inside her mom’s room; all she had done was knocked on the door softly and then left her alone when no one answered. Fuck, had she been in pain all night, and Shay hadn’t even noticed?

“Shay, I don’t know,” her dad says tiredly. “I was only a few minutes from home when I got the call from the hospital, and turned around to come here to get you.”

“You didn’t -” Shay sputters in disbelief. “You didn’t even go see her, first? You just came here?”

He sighs at her. “Shay, just - come on. Let’s go.”

Before Shay can say anything else, he turns towards Ms. Johnson. 

“Do I need to do anything else, or is she all set here?” he asks.

Ms. Johnson says, “oh, oh no, you can both go. Shay can get her coursework from her classmates.”

“Alright,” her dad says. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s roll.”

Their walk to the car and subsequent ride would be awkward if Shay wasn’t too worried to care about how distant she feels from her own father. He doesn’t even attempt to start a conversation with her, just keeps fiddling with the radio to find something that he likes. Shay leans her head against the passenger side window, staring as Austin blurs by them. She wishes she could just go to sleep and wake up happy again. 

_I'm always ready for a war again_

_Go down that road again_

_It's all the same_

_I'm always ready to take a life again_

_You know I'll ride again_

_It's all the same (ooh, ooh, ooh)_

_Tell me who's gon' save me from myself_

_When this life is all I know_

_Tell me who's gon' save me from this hell_

_Without you, I'm all alone_

A nurse is coming out of her mother’s room right as they make it to the door. Shay stands silently next to the adults as they make quiet conversation, her father asking about how her mom is doing and when she was admitted. It’s a scene that Shay has experienced so often that it’s hard to separate what’s really happening from her own memories. She rubs her palms together inside the pocket of her hoodie, the slight friction irritating her still-healing skin. 

The nurse says with a bright smile on her face, “She’s doing well, her vitals are stabilized and she’s just sleeping for now. We gave her something for the pain as well as antibiotics. This stay shouldn’t be too long.”

“Thank you,” her father says. “Come on, honey, let’s go inside.” 

They sneak into the room, assuming their regular positions. Her dad goes to the half-hard lounge chair that is never comfortable, no matter if you’re sitting or sleeping in it, Shay hops up onto the windowsill, folding her legs underneath her. She drops her bag into the floor, the dull noise making her mom huff in her sleep. Her dad rubs at her mom’s leg gently, and Shay catches the long, sorrowful look on his face before she turns her face to look out the window. Just across the street from the hospital are two ads, probably purchased by the same group. One of them condemns people making appointments for abortions, while the other urges doctors to not treat “sinners with HIV.” Shay stares at them, the colors blurring together. 

“So,” her dad says, clearing his throat. “How’s school?”

“Fine.”

“And your college applications?”

“Working on them.”

“And the boys? How’s the band?”

“They’re good.” Shay pauses. “It’s good. Just working on new music, same old stuff.”

“I ran into Lou on my route coming home, you remember him, he has a son about your age? Remember that one summer you and mom traveled with me in the truck, and you two, I don’t know, you two must’ve played Uno for hours.”

Shay stares at him. “You mean back when I was eight?”

“Yeah, you remember?”

Shay vague remembers playing Uno with a boy around her age with a bowl cut. “I guess?”

“Well, Lou Jr. is applying to schools too, he’s also in a band, Lou was telling me. All of them are applying to Julliard, I think he said his boy’s going for composition. Might be worth looking into.”

Shay stares at him. “What do you mean, worth looking into?”

“Julliard,” her dad says. “Or you know, any of those music schools. If you’re serious about it.”

Shay snorts. “Sure?”

“Well, why not?”

“When you know of any music schools that open up in Austin, let me know,” Shay says. 

He blinks in surprise. “What does that mean?”

Shay wonders if her father is just especially obtuse, or if she’s just not being clear enough. She doesn’t know how that’s possible, with the lifetime of lectures she’s gotten about looking after her mother and not straying too close from home. She thinks of all the phone calls and text messages where he didn’t even bother asking for her, just kept reminding her of her obligation. 

“I can’t leave mom,” Shay says. “If I go off to school, she won’t have anyone.”

“Oh, so I’m chopped liver?” He laughs like she’s making a joke.

“You?” Shay can barely keep the derision out of her voice. “You’re home maybe one week a month, if that. Unless you plan on giving up your lucrative career as a truck driver?”

Her father’s face shutters to stone for a moment. “I think you’re mistaking me for one of your little friends, Shayla Krystal.”

Their eyes lock, his voice deadly serious. For a moment, Shay wishes she could challenge him. Wishes she could be like those white kids who throw things at their parents and tell them how they really feel, wishes she could just go wild with no repercussions but with an apology instead. 

“I’m sorry,” she mutters instead, dropping her eyes. 

In lieu of accepting it, she feels his sharp gaze on her. “You seem tired, honey.” 

“Yah,” she says dully. “I’m not sleeping well.”

“It’s probably from stress,” he says. “But just try and relax. Nothing is worth making yourself sick over.”

Right, relax. 

“Okay.”

“Remember Psalms,” he says to her. “‘The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in Him, and I am helped; therefore my heart greatly rejoices, and with my song I will praise Him.’”

She says, “Okay, thank you Dad.”

He sighs at her again, quiet for a moment. “Shay, you know your mother and I are here for you, don’t you? But we can’t help you if you act like talking to us is like pulling teeth.”

“I know.”

“I hope you do,” he says. “And - And I know it’s hard to talk to your parents about everything but we want to help. We know a little more than you might think.” 

Shay turns her face again, her eyes catching on the billboards once more. _If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them. Leviticus 20:13. _

+++

**Monday, October 21, 4:02 PM**

_New message from: **Mar**  
_

Hey

My mom told me that your mom is in the hospital

You okay? You need anything?

**7:35 PM**

Okay I know we're fighting now or something but let me know

+++

**Monday, October 21, 8:02 PM**

_New message from: **Tyler**_

Mar told me about your mom

I'm sorry, it always sucks

I know you hate when we come to the hospital but do you want us to after school tomorrow?

+++

**Tuesday, October 22, 11:14 AM  
**

_New message from: **Kelsey Russell **_

Hi, I have your Gov homework but Marlon just told me you're out today.

Do you want me to hold onto it or scan it to you or something?

**2:43 PM**

Okay, so I just emailed it to you!

Thankfully I have access to the scanner in the Johnson’s office.

OH also don't worry about your portion of the work packet, Zoya handed something in for you

**4:21 PM **

Also don't worry about that, I looked it over and she didn't put down any wrong answers

NOT THAT SHE WOULD DO THAT

But I know you guys are fighting?

So just to make you feel better :)

Anyway see you tomorrow maybe!

+++

**Tuesday, October 22, 11:14 AM  
**

_New message from: **Dingleberries**_

_[Tyler]_

Just wanted to check in Shady

You want us to come over tonight?

I know how much you hate it when the church ladies have to come to stay with you 

_[Mar]_

My mom said she can make a casserole for me to bring

And cheesecake 

_[Tyler]_

Yeah my mom made like 999999 empanadas too

**2:29 PM**

No thanks

My dad is home anyway

_[Tyler]_

Oh that's good

_[Mar]_

Let us know if you need anything

<3

_[Tyler]_

<3

+++

**Wednesday, October 23, 8:58 AM**

_Sorry, (I ain't sorry)_

_Sorry, (I ain't sorry)_

_I ain't sorry, nigga, nah_

_Sorry, (I ain't sorry)_

_Sorry, (I ain't sorry)_

_I ain't sorry_

_He trying to roll me up, I ain't picking up_

_Headed to the club, I ain't thinking 'bout you_

_Me and my ladies sip my D'USSÉ cup_

_I don't give a fuck, chucking my deuces up_

_Suck on my balls, pause, I had enough_

_I ain't thinking 'bout you_

_I ain't thinking 'bout_

_Middle fingers up, put them hands high_

_Wave it in his face, tell him, boy, bye_

_Tell him, boy, bye, middle fingers up_

_I ain't thinking 'bout you_

Shay arrives at school to see Tyler and Marlon standing near her locker, a McDonald’s bag tucked under Marlon’s arm. She slows down as she approaches them, wary about what’s going on and then feeling guilty about being wary over seeing her best friends. Tyler spots her first; he nudges Marlon in the ribs. Marlon glances up, waving at her limply. 

She stops a few feet away from them. She doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing, but she’s already tired and the day hasn’t even started yet. After being in the hospital for two days straight, she and her dad had finally gone home last night. Shay ate Chef Boyardee right out of the can and then slept for twelve hours. 

“Hey,” Marlon says.

“Hey,” Tyler says.

“Hey?” Shay says.

“This is for you,” Marlon says. He shoves the McDonald’s bag at her without ceremony. 

She reaches for it, her stomach growling at her. Inside are a bunch of snack wraps, French fries, and an apple pie. She unwraps and bites into a snack wrap. 

“Thanks,” she says with her mouth full. “Woke up too late to eat something at home.” 

“We figured,” Tyler says.

“How’s your mom?” Marlon asks.

Shay shrugs. “Fine.”

“It sucks that there’s no cure,” Tyler says. “It must’ve been rough for her to be in the hospital.”

“Yeah, but it’s whatever.”

Marlon says, “It’s a good thing your dad is home, so you don’t have to deal with it by yourself.”

Shay starts in on some of the fries. “Yeah.”

The bell rings, and she moves forward to get to her locker. She frowns at Marlon and Tyler when they don’t move, and just stare back at her. 

“That’s the bell,” Shay says. 

“Yeah, it is,” Tyler says, glancing at Marlon.

“We… thought we could skip first period,” Marlon says. “To do some… community service.”

Shay stares at them. “Community service?”

“Yeah,” Tyler says. “Our community, of the three of us. It’s in need of some serious repair.”

They’re smiling at her like it’s all some joke, and it just makes her anger spike. She just looks at them for a moment, wondering if trying to shove past them to get to her locker is even worth it. As she deliberates, she swings her backpack around and shoves the rest of the McDonald’s in there.

Fuck it. She can go to A.P. Gov without her notebook for once, fuck Mr. Anderson. Rather than responding, she gives them a fake smile and then turns and walks on her heel.

“Shay!” Tyler calls after her.

To her surprise, she hears them chasing after her, and Marlon gently grabs at her elbow to pull her back. They land somewhere near the wall of lockers, out of the way of everyone else scrambling to get to class. She crosses her arms over her chest, refusing to look at them.

“Look, I get it, that’s real cute,” Shay says. “Sunday was intense, we all forgive each other, blahblahblah. Thanks for the fries.” 

Marlon and Tyler glance at each other again.

“Look, I actually am sorry for Sunday,” Marlon says. “I was a fucking asshole.”

“More than usual,” Tyler agrees.

Marlon rolls his eyes. “More than usual. And… look, what you said, you were right.”

Tyler says, “we’re supposed to be best friends and we don’t even fucking talk to each other, when we should be the people we go to when shit is fucking horrible.”

“And… like, you’re right,” Marlon says. “We all need to open up. We’ve all been keeping secrets and we haven’t been really honest with each other for a long time, and maybe it’s time that we start.”

Shay is too dumbfounded to say anything.

“So, come on,” Tyler says. “We’re skipping class to sort our shit out.”

_That's a pretty big trunk on my Lincoln town car, ain't it?_

_Big enough to take these broken hearts and put 'em in it_

_Now I'm driving 'round on the boulevard, trunk bleeding_

_And every time the cops pull me over, they never see them_

_And I've got this black suit on_

_Roaming around like I'm ready for a funeral_

_Five more miles 'til the road runs out_

They end up underneath the bleachers, as they usually do. Marlon goes first, picking at his shoes and obviously uncomfortable. 

“I don’t know...” Marlon sighs. “I just feel so fake all the time. There are so many things I believe in and so many things I wanna make happen, but at the end of the day, I’m always just fucking things up.”

Shay asks, “bro, what?”

Marlon shrugs. “Like… the whole thing with Abby. I should’ve told her right away that I just wasn’t into her anymore, but I didn’t want to be an asshole so I kept putting it off, and then she got hurt anyway. And then… all the shit with Megan, it’s just… it all got out of control. I loved her but it just wasn’t good for either of us. I feel like I spent most of that relationship arguing with her or lying to her and it sucked. And then when I found out she cheated… yeah I was mad but I also was just… relieved. It was like I was in some kind of weird limbo, you know? I wanted to be with her but not the way it was, and it’s like I was just… waiting for something to happen so I could have an excuse for it to be over. It was like… divine intervention.”

Tyler very carefully doesn’t look at Shay; a hard knot forms below her breastbone. She takes a deep breath, her eyes watering up. As hard as it is, she knows this is it; this is the moment she’s been holding in for too long now.

“It was less an act of God and more…” Shay swallows. “Me. I’m sorry Mar, I... ”

Whatever reaction she’s expecting, it’s not Marlon’s wry, sad smile.

“I know.”

Tyler raises his eyebrows. “You know…?”

Marlon shakes his head a little. “I know it was Shay who leaked it to Overheard Bouldin.”

Shay squeaks, “You did?”

“Megan told you?” Tyler asks.

Marlon shakes his head no, firmly this time. “I overheard some Kittens talking about it, about how Shay came to Abby and then Abby told them.”

“But…” shay trails off. “You never said anything.”

“You didn’t either.” Marlon pauses. “And at that point, I don’t know, it was all so fucked up it was easier to just be mad at Megan then to be upset with you. It was… like how was I supposed to feel? Betrayed that you didn’t tell me directly? Mad that Megan told you when you’re my best friend? Relieved that the truth was out, no matter how shitty it was?”

Shay whispers, “I don’t know."

“And then by the time I was over it… I was over it,” Marlon says. “I didn’t know how to say anything, especially considering…”

“Considering?”

He looks up at her. “Considering why you did it.”

Shay’s heart thuds in her chest. “What do you mean?”

“You’re in love with Megan. Or, were,” Marlon says. “It… wasn’t that hard to figure out.”

Shay pulls her legs up, pressing her knees into her chest. “Marlon, I’m so sorry. It… I tried not to, and then I couldn’t help it, and then it was all… fucked up.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Marlon says. “I never was, really. But that’s like… it’s a thing, too, like part of why I just feel like I’m always fucking up. I’m always failing you and Tyler.”

Shay and Tyler exchange looks. 

“What do you mean?”

Marlon says, “I mean like... when you guys both came out to me, and I said it was cool, of course, I still loved you guys… like of course that was true, but I also… I didn’t know how to handle being the odd one out, or like, how to be a good ally or whatever. I was worried about saying the wrong things or asking the wrong questions, no matter how much I knew… know… So then I just… pulled back. I never asked you about girls or Ty about guys, and then it just… I just feel like I’m the reason we don’t talk anymore.”

Tyler says, “It’s not on you, Marlon. It’s on all of us.”

“I don’t understand,” Shay frowns. “So what, you don’t ask us about our love lives. What does that have to do with you being a fuck up?”

“I mean… like if I even bothered, then you guys could feel like you could talk to me. I could actually help you with the issues you’re going through instead of you guys going through it yourself,” Marlon says. “Or like… if I knew how you felt about Megan, I… I don’t know. Maybe I wouldn’t have dated her.”

“You not dating Megan wouldn’t have made her fall for me instead,” Shay says. “And like… it would have been fucked up of me to ask you of that anyway.”

Tyler pauses. “You know I don’t… Megan isn’t my favorite person in the world. But Marlon, come on. You seriously loved her. Would you even have been able to not date her?”

Marlon looks down at his sneakers. “I don’t know. But maybe it would’ve been better if I never had. She called the whole relationship a ‘mistake.’”

“I think a lot of heated things happened on Sunday,” Shay says slowly. “And -”

“No, the night we broke up,” Marlon interrupts her. “She called the whole thing a stupid mistake.”

“Ouch,” Tyler mutters.

“Yeah. But it’s also… everything with us was so intense, you know? And then how we tried to stay friends in the spring, but she was… just drunk, all the time, and then this summer…”

Shay prompts him. “This summer?”

Marlon rubs his forehead. “We were… hooking up. A lot, you guys know. And she was never… there were a few times she was drunk so we didn't cause it was all… anyway. But then around Independence Day it was really bad. She was supposed to come over to my house, but she never showed up. And then...”

“Then?”

“I was calling her, texting her like crazy. I was worried she got into a drunk driving accident or something,” Marlon says, clearly uncomfortable. “But then… the next morning I got a call from her dad. She… they had to hospitalize her for alcohol poisoning. Pumped her stomach and everything.”

“Fuck,” Shay breathes.

“Yeah, and… I wanted to go visit her but he said no, he didn’t think that was a good idea and… then a few days later Megan asked me to meet up, and she was saying how like… she needed to get help, real help, and that… she wanted me to stay away from her because she didn’t like… blame me but that she thought our… relationship, whatever it was… wasn’t good for her. So that’s when we stopped talking. Or, tried to. There were some days...” he trails off. “But… anyway it all reminded me of the spring, when… I had tried to talk to Grace about Megan’s drinking, you know, and she… she basically said it was my fault. ‘Stop pretending like you’re a good guy,’ she said. Or something like that.”

Shay looks away, not even sure what to say to all of that. In the back of her mind, the conversation she had with Zoya weeks ago plays on repeat. _Also… look, it might not be my place to say anything, but you should talk to him about Megan. She’s doing really well right now. And… I’m just worried about them bringing her down. Marlon especially. He… does something to her. _It feels… too complicated, and the emotionality of that is overwhelming. Shay knows that Marlon isn't a bad guy, not like Grace said; but it is that maybe he’s just bad for some people. And isn’t that what everyone is like? Aren’t there just… sometimes, you can’t be good all the time, sometimes you can’t be good for another person, no matter how much you want to be? Because she also knows it’s not all on Marlon. Megan has her own shit and it’s good she’s dealing with it now, or whatever, but. 

Sometimes, it is what it is, right?

“Anyway, so I guess that’s also part of why I went off at the party,” Marlon says. “Especially about the whole Grace thing. I really… it made me really think that she was right. I mean, Ty, if you were jumping in to defend her... Then maybe... I'm just really not a good person. No matter how hard I try, I always... I fuck up. I hurt someone.”

Tyler closes his eyes for a moment, like he has a sharp pain he’s trying to suppress. “That… it wasn’t really about you. It was about Grace.”

“What does that even mean?”

He sighs. “It’s just… this is kind of weird to explain, but… last year, she was… going through something pretty bad, and I knew about it and I… I don’t know, talked to her? Supported her? Through it.”

There’s a long, awkward pause.

“So, you and Grace are… friends?” Shay asks, bewildered.

“Yes, or, no? It’s… like I said it’s weird to explain. I knew it was her but she didn’t know it was me. I used a fake account on Instagram, and we DMed, like, a lot.”

Marlon asks, “So you… catfished Grace Olsen into being your friend?” 

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Tyler says, slightly defensively. “But… I mean yeah I guess, when you put it like that.”

“So you like… wanted to protect her because you’re… friends?” Shay furrows her eyebrows. “Wait a minute, is that what happened last year? In the courtyard?”

Marlon asks, “The courtyard?”

“Grace basically ran into me, and I was gonna go off on her but Tyler stopped me,” Shay says.

Tyler sighs. “I mean it’s related, but that was before we started talking. Anyway. But that’s - like, Grace is like… she’s actually really cool. And she’s nice. So like…. Yah I jumped in, I wasn’t actually thinking about why I was doing it, but I did.”

“Okay,” Marlon says, still sounding bewildered.

“And she actually… like she doesn’t know, okay, but she helped me through some stuff,” Tyler says. “Stuff that I never… I was always embarrassed to tell you guys. Or scared to.”

"Oh," Marlon says softly.

"So it's not that you're a bad dude, Marlon," Tyler says. "You're not. come on, I don't even know... how you can think that."

Marlon shrugs, looking away. "I just... I do."

Shay reaches over to squeeze his hand tightly. "You're not, Marlon. You're one of the best guys I know."

Marlon takes a deep breath. "But... Okay, Ty, I'm sorry, but what do you mean stuff you never told us?"

It takes a long moment for Tyler to answer. "Like about how… I just feel so useless sometimes. Like, seriously depressed. But I don’t want to bring you guys down so I just… hide it. Keep making jokes, keep going to parties, keep… hooking up with guys who I know won’t take me seriously.”

“Ty,” Shay says softly.

“It’s easy to be someone’s hookup, easy to just be detached,” Tyler says.

“But you deserve so much better than that,” Shay says. “Like, you deserve a guy who wants to get to know you and like, be there for you and stuff.”

“Yeah,” Marlon says. “I just… I always thought you just liked… you know…”

“Sleeping around?”

Marlon winces. “And I get why you didn’t say anything to us, but, dude, what did you think would happen?”

Tyler frowns. “I guess a part of my brain is just always worried that it’ll be too much for you guys, that you soon enough all you’ll see is the guy bringing you down, and then you won’t want to deal with my bullshit.”

“I’m sorry, Ty,” Shay says. “I wish I had known.”

"We're always gonna be here for you," Marlon says. "Nothing... come on. It's not bullshit."

“I know, and every time you tried to get me to open up I’d want to just, like spill everything. But then I’d just… couldn’t,” Tyler says. “And then… Shay, you’re like a fucking moral compass sometimes, making me feel like shit for these guy’s girlfriends.”

“Seriously Shay,” Marlon mumbles. “Sometimes you act like you’re true north.”

“Hey!” Shay pulls her hand out of Marlon's so she can slug him in the shoulder. “Look, sorry if I’m acting like… you know being annoying or whatever, but it’s all out of love."

"We know," Marlon says, moving to rub his shoulder.

Shay rolls her eyes at him, and then turns to Tyler gently.

"Ty... look, I'm so sorry. You're amazing."

"It doesn't feel like that," he whispers.

"What can we do to help?" Marlon asks.

Tyler sighs. "I... I don't know. I guess it helps finally talking to you guys about it."

"We'll always be here for you to talk to," Shay says. "And... I'm so, so sorry that you ever felt that you had to hide that from us."

Marlon says, “Yeah. We’ll always be here, man. No matter what.”

Tyler takes a deep breath in, then rubs at his face a bit. Shay leans into him. He takes another long, slow inhale and then looks at Marlon.

“So, what’s… what’s happening with you and Megan now?” He asks.

Marlon sighs. “We… amazingly, we were able to talk about what happened at the party, like, a couple of days ago actually.”

“Really?”

Marlon nods. “Yeah, she sent me a text message that she’s sorry about what went down, and I apologized too. I guess we just needed that kind of blow-out, you know? But anyway… then we just talked about how this whole thing with us just isn’t working. And that we can’t like, ignore each other but we shouldn’t pretend to be friends.”

“Wow,” Shay says. “That’s rough.”

“Yeah, but for the best,” Marlon says quietly.

Tyler takes a small breath. “Honestly, Mar, I’m sorry.”

Marlon gives him a small smile. “Yeah, me too.”

They’re quiet for a moment. 

“Okay, Shady, your turn,” Tyler says. “That’s about all I can expose about myself today without losing my cool factor.”

“Cool factor?” Shay laughs at him. “Please.”

He smiles back at her. “Seriously, though. What’s been going on with you?”

“I mean, I guess you already know the big thing,” Shay says. “I just… felt like we weren’t really, like… seeing each other. The less you guys seemed to want to talk to me, the less I felt like I could share with you, I guess. And it’s been… just hard. I see…”

She has to swallow down the lump in her throat to continue her sentence.

“I see so many other girls who are just so… they have friends who it seems like they share everything with, or they have parents who actively want to be in their lives, or… anything like that. And I just felt… so alone, all the time.”

“You can share things with us,” Tyler says. “And - and like, I bet your mom is trying.”

“I know,” Shay says, her voice warbling. “I know so much that it’s eating me inside with guilt every time I hide something from y’all or every time I pretend like I’m okay because I don’t want my mom to be burdened with some bullshit. I just feel like… I’m not good.”

Marlon frowns at her fiercely. “What does that even mean, you’re not good? You’re the best of all of us.”

“Seriously, Shay,” Tyler says. “And like, fuck your guilt! Fuck your shame!”

“I just like… I’ve spent so much time hiding, you know, about what I want, about who I am, that it’s…” Shay has to stop again. “That it’s hard to show myself again.”

Inside Shay, it feels like all the tension that’s been storing up in her muscles has finally broken free of the damn, and she feels her body sag. Her vision suddenly becomes blurry, and she rubs at her eyes. The harder she presses her hands in, the more tears begin to fall. She takes a shuddering breath, but suddenly, she has two supports holding her up. 

Marlon and Tyler surround her, their arms reaching around one another and hugging her tightly. Marlon’s forgotten to put on deodorant again Tyler’s snapback feels scratchy against her scalp, but it still works. Despite everything that’s happened, they still work. She feels wet marks track down not only on her own cheeks but on her neck and temple as well, and she knows that they’re crying too. Maybe later she’ll crack a joke about it, but for now she just enjoys being held.

“We’re really sorry, Shay,” Tyler whispers. “We never want you to feel that way again.”

“We’ll make sure you don’t,” Marlon says.

_When you love someone so deeply_

_They become your life_

_It's easy to succumb to overwhelming fears inside_

_Blindly I imagined I could_

_Keep you under glass_

_Now I understand to hold you_

_I must open up my hands_

_And watch you rise_

“Oh,” Marlon says as they walk back into the school building, “we forgot to give this to you.”

He digs around in his backpack for a moment, before pulling out a small, brown teddy bear. Shay’s step stutters for a moment and she stares at him like he’s from another universe. The teddy bear looks like one of those drugstore Valentine’s Day things, complete with the satin red head stitched into its arms. She gingerly takes it from him as Tyler smirks at her from Marlon’s other side. On a closer inspection, Shay sees that ‘sorry we’re assholes’ is written on the heart in black permanent marker. Shay has to bite down on the side of her cheek to keep from laughing.

“Oh, this is real nice,” she says, the humor evident in her voice. “So now I have to fucking carry this around with me all day like some nerd. Thanks a lot.”

“What,” Tyler teases, “afraid Monique will be jealous?”

Marlon winces slightly. “Oh yeah, that too. I’m honestly really sorry about being a dick before the party. I really do want to meet her, like, officially.”

Shay sighs. “I don’t know if that’s gonna happen. I… honestly I think I fucked up beyond repair with her.”

“What happened?”

Shay winces. “I, uh, maybe called her a Jehovah’s Witness.”

Tyler scrunches his face up at her. “What the fuck?”

She sighs, and starts from the beginning.

+++

**Thursday, October 24, 5:23 PM  
**

_Direct message with_ ** _: @howtotranyourdragon_ **

Hey Diana

Never got to thank you properly for lending me the Audre Lorde book

I'm so fucking inspired, her shit is amazing

Hey Shay!

I'm so glad you like it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yeah I think she's really gonna impact my writing

I already have so many new hooks that I'm working on and shit

That's awesome!

When you're done with her OOOOOOOOOOH just you wait

I'm gonna lend you so many books

Sonia Sanchez next girl!

Lol

Okay

Also thanks for the talk in your house and everything

Mar, Ty and I made up, and you were totally right

I'm really glad to hear it

And what about you and your boo?

Ugh...

Chin up, I'm sure that will work out too

Thanks <3

+++

**Friday, October 25, 11:05 AM**

“Thanks, Mrs. Mendoza,” Monique says as she steps out of the counselor’s office.

“Just remember,” Mrs. Mendoza’s voice floats out, “most colleges don’t want to see that stuff on your record. Unless you’re trying to go be the next Fallon Fox.”

“...Right,” Monique calls back. 

Shay swallows, hesitating. She’s supposed to have a meeting with Mrs. Mendoza now to go over her still uncompleted application, but now she’s wondering if she should just turn and leave. It’s too late though, as Monique turns out of the office and catches Shay staring at her. 

“Hey,” she says. 

The word seems to slip past Monique’s mouth without permission because she immediately cringes. She stays in the doorway, frowning at Shay. The look of blatant disapproval and dismissal burns inside Shay; it feels like Monique is staring at her like some kind of pest that needs to be squashed beneath her foot. 

“Hey,” Shay says back anyway. “You, uh, has a meeting?” 

“Looks like it,” Monique says curtly.

Shay pushes the tip of her tongue into her canine before answering. “Yah, me too.”

“We are seniors, so.”

Shay’s heart sinks with every clipped word, but she tries to reassure herself with the fact that Monique is still standing there, engaging with her. Instead of it making her feel better though, something about the whole interaction is just making her more upset. She can feel her face heat up in anger, and she’s not even sure that she can name why that is. 

“Look... can we talk?” Shay asks. 

“I have things to do.”

“Okay,” Shay breathes out slowly through her nose. “Maybe later? At lunch? Please?” 

She thinks she sees Monique’s eyes soften a bit, and Shay tries to work it to her advantage. Her tense shoulders relax just a bit, and she can feel herself calming down slightly. 

“I even brought food from home today,” she says. “I’d love to share. My dad, he's, uhm, here and he makes a mean chili.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, but Shay has no idea why. Monique’s eyes narrow and her mouth draws tightly. Wordlessly, Monique moves out of the doorway and starts to walk around Shay, not even bothering to hold the door open for her. It slams shut, the hard noise tipping Shay over the edge. Words are spilling out of her mouth before she can stop them. 

“Are you serious?” 

Monique pauses long enough to glare at her. “You can’t possibly have anything that I would want.”

Shay turns around to face her fully. “Look, I’m sorry, okay! I’m sorry for what happened at my house, but you caught me by surprise. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Monique stares at her. “Didn’t know what else to do?”

“I’m not - look, I’m not out to my mom,” Shay says.

Rather than soften with empathy, Monique shrugs her shoulders. “And?”

“And?” Shay can’t believe what she’s hearing. “And, I didn’t want her to see you and start asking questions, I didn’t know if you were going to kiss me or what -”

“You -” Monique sputters. “So, what, rather than come outside to talk to me or tell me that quickly or anything that a regular human would do, you decided to slam the door in my face? And then not even bother to call or text me an apology? And then come up to me like nothing even happened?”

“I -”

“I haven’t heard from you in almost a week,” Monique says. “You think it’s cool to just leave someone hanging like that? Did you not see how upset I was on Saturday, or did you just not care?”

Shay explodes. “Could you just - could you fucking stop, for a minute? Just a minute? I’m sorry, I don’t know how many times I have to say that but you’re - you’re just yelling at me, you’re not even letting me talk, not even asking how I am, not even -”

Monique averts her eyes.

Shay feels her voice going high. “Did you even notice that I wasn’t in school the past few days? Or maybe even stop to wonder that Saturday was actually really shitty for me too? Or did you just plan on ignoring me anyway so you didn’t care?”

“I -”

“I have a lot of shit going on too,” Shay says. “That I’m just trying to deal with, so excuse me for not fucking making you and your feelings my first priority!” 

Monique’s nostrils flare. “Okay. Well, great. This was a really enlightening conversation about exactly how selfish you think I am, so I’m glad we cleared that up.”

Shay’s too angry to form a coherent sentence. “Great.”

“Cool.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

_Heaven help me_

_If love ain't dead I'ma kill it 'cause it's killin' me_

_Cold world, they'll be livin' in a fantasy_

_Got me, it's the only thing I'll ever need_

_Heaven help me_

_If love ain't dead I'ma kill it 'cause it's killin' me_

_Love is a drug with amphetamine_

_D-A-R-E, they'll be hooked on me_

“Ladies?”

Shay snaps her head to see Mrs. Mendoza staring at them, a lollipop in her hand and a look of concern on her face. She hadn’t even noticed the door opening, she was so angry at what was happening. She can feel her hands shaking so she balls them up into fists and shoves them into her pants pocket. Monique refuses to look at her, staring at the floor instead. 

“Monique, shouldn’t you be going to lunch?” Mrs. Mendoza says. “Unless you’ll be joining Shay and I for her common application progress meeting?”

Monique mutters something that Shay can’t quite hear.

“I thought so,” Mrs. Mendoza says. “Shay? Shall we?”

Mrs. Mendoza moves back, holding the door open for Shay. She grits her teeth and stomps into the room, not even bothering to look back at Monique. 

_Even if you are the love of my life_

_Sorry baby, I got too much pride_

+++

**Saturday, October 26, 6:29 PM **

Shay rolls her neck around as she stands outside the hospital, happy to be out of the cold, antiseptic air for a few moments. The doctors aren’t quite ready to release her mom yet, though she doesn’t seem to be in that much pain anymore and is up and quoting Bible verses again. When Shay had left her room, she was watching reruns of Basketball Wives on the hospital television. 

“These women need Jesus,” one of the nurses said as she was checking her mother’s blood pressure.

“Mmhmm,” her mother agreed. “Their men do, too.”

Shay lifts her arms up over her head, stretching out the muscles in her back. The revolving door behind her pushes open, and Shay scoots to the side so that she’s not in the way. She looks up to see Megan and another person coming through the doors; her whole body freezes.

Megan’s entire face is red and there’s a wadded up tissue in her hand. Surprisingly though, she doesn’t have a sad or angry look on her face. Instead she’s laughing at whatever the person next to her has said. Shay stares openly at them, wondering why Megan is coming out of a hospital with a middle-aged South Asian dude with a nose ring wearing Birkenstocks. The man smiles at Shay as they pass, and Megan turns her head with the smile still on her face.

Once she and Shay lock eyes, Megan stumbles.

“Megan!” the man says, “Are you alright?”

Megan steadies herself. “Yeah, uhm, I’m fine.” 

“Okay, good,” he says. “Though, if any place were good to have an accident, it would be here.” 

Megan chuckles, than looks at Shay, an embarrassed look coming over her face. The moment stretches out for a bit, and Shay thinks that Megan is trying to figure out if she should introduce Shay and this guy or just walk away. The man nods as Shay with a small smile on his lips, but waits for Megan without saying anything. 

“Uhm, Bobby, this is Shay, a friend from school,” Megan finally says. “Shay this is... uhm… my sponsor, Bobby.”

_Sponsor? _

Shay waves awkwardly. “Hi.”

Bobby smiles. “It’s nice to meet you, Shay.”

“You too?” Shay says.

Bobby gives Megan an encouraging look. “I’ll leave you two to it, then. But shall I see you and your parents on Tuesday for bingo night?”

“We’ll be there,” Megan promises. “And you can tell Amir that I’m definitely gonna win the movie tickets this time!”

Bobby claps her gently on the shoulder before walking back towards the parking lot. Megan rocks back on her heels.

“Are you...” Megan pauses. “Are you here for your mom? Is she okay?”

Shay nods. “It’s just a small infection, but it’s been about a week. I think they’re releasing her tomorrow. My dad is here, so...”

“Right,” Megan says. “Well, that’s good.”

“Is… everything okay with you?” Shay asks.

“Oh, uhm, yeah,” Megan says. “I’m just...”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Shay says quickly. 

Megan hesitates. “No, actually, I… kinda want to. If that’s okay with you.”

Shay rubs the back of her head. “Uhm, yeah. That’s okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Megan smiles slightly. “Would you… if you can leave for an hour or something, would you want to go get smoothies?”

Shay grins at her. “Smoothies?”

“Some things never change,” Megan shrugs back at her, her smile widening.

“Yeah,” Shay says. “Yeah, I’m down for smoothies.”

_Oh oh oh oh_

_Wait a minute_

_Wait a minute_

_I think I gotta take some time_

_And clear my mind_

_'Cause if I don't_

_I might scream_

_Scream out loud_

_In a little bit_

_I'm a tell you_

_What I'm talking bout_

_Ladies (ladies, ladies)_

_If you know what I mean_

_When you're in love_

_And give your everything_

_(Tired of that happening)_

_Ooh, this time it's for me_

_After you've bein' doin' you_

_I'm gonna do me_

They sit on top of a decrepit wooden table outside a sketchy looking smoothie truck, parked just a few blocks away from the hospital. Megan tells Shay that she always tries to stop by after a meeting because it makes her feel better. 

“My parents were the ones who made me start going,” she says. “After… well. Long story short, I got really fucked up, like scary fucked up this summer. I had to be hospitalized cause I drank so much."

Shay nods along slowly.

Megan sighs. "You don't seem surprised. God, was I that much of a fuck up?"

"No!" Shay says quickly. "No, I - uhm. Marlon... kinda told me that you got scary sick. But he just told me, like, a few days ago. Before that, I honestly had no idea."

"Oh," Megan says softly.

"I'm sorry," Shay says. "Do you - do you mind?"

She pauses for a moment. "Honestly... no. I'm kinda surprised he didn't tell you sooner though. I would've."

"Yeah," Shay sighs.

“Anyway. So my parents made me go to these meetings. At first I was like, these are so dumb, I’m not an alcoholic,” Megan snorts at herself. “I’m just having some fun, and if I drink too much, like, so what? It’s what all teenagers do. All that stuff. But then… I don’t know. A few minutes in and something changed. I had this huge breakdown and I realized that… like something was really, really wrong with me. Like, people just don’t hide their drinking, they don’t wake up wanting alcohol, they don’t… get themselves hospitalized because they need to be wasted to hook up with someone.”

Shay winces. “Marlon?”

“Marlon,” Megan sighs. “And I just… this had been going on for so long, but I never realized how bad it was, how bad I was, until I started coming to the meetings, getting actual help.”

“I mean, that’s good,” Shay says. “That’s great that you’re getting help.”

“Yeah,” Megan smiles slightly. “And now I’m a three months and four days sober.”

Shay smiles back at her. “Megs, that’s awesome.”

“Thanks,” Megan says. “Maybe it’s not super important in the grand scheme of things -”

“No, it is,” Shay says. “It’s great, Megan. Seriously.”

“Some days are harder than others,” Megan admits. “Like… Friday…”

Shay winces. “Yeah…”

“I’m really sorry for what went down. I didn’t… I honestly didn’t mean to cause a scene or start anything, but I guess no party is truly safe from me.”

She says it with a wry smile before taking a long drink of her smoothie. Shay snorts, before her mouth turns down in a thoughtful frown.

“I honestly, like, I don’t think you need to apologize,” Shay says. “Look, Friday night was rough but I don’t think it was your fault. Things just got heated, you know?”

“Yeah,” Megan says. “I guess.”

Shay pauses. “Marlon… I mean, like I said I didn’t know the story before. But a few days ago he also told me that you asked him to stay away from him or whatever.”

“I don’t blame him,” Megan says. “And I don’t hate him or anything. And… I’ll always love him, I think. But I also… like everything that happened was because of my own choices but also Marlon and I are just… it’s like a powder keg or something. We just bring out the worse in each other. And I can’t deal with that right now. I can’t get better and be… whatever with him.”

“Do you think you guys can ever be...” Shay sighs. “I don’t know. Friends?”

“Maybe,” Megan says. “We did… you know, talk a little, like a few days after it happened.”

Shay winces slightly. “Yeah, Mar told us.”

“Yeah,” Megan says. “And like… I don’t know, obviously we’re gonna have to try to figure out how to like, be in the same room together and stuff. But…

“Yeah,” Shay says.

“I don’t know. I feel like I can’t really focus on that now, but... yeah, maybe. I… I mean I have to believe that things can get better and people can change. Or else I’m seriously screwed.”

Shay snorts. “You and me both.” 

“And, I am really sorry, for everything that’s gone down between us the past few years,” Megan says, her eyes watering. “I really do miss you and our friendship. I know I can’t change the past, but I want to be able to… I don’t know. Mend things between us. If you want.”

“That’d be nice.” Shay suddenly feels choked up. “I… I miss you too, you know. And same. We’ve both fucked up.”

“Yeah, but at least you never tried to drunkenly make out with me to make someone jealous,” Megan says, swiping at her eyes.

“Oh, ouch,” Shay laughs wetly. “Yeah, true.”

“Though, you did soberly break up me and my boyfriend,” Megan muses. “By telling my worst secret to my worst enemy.”

“Oh, so that makes us even?” Shay grins at her.

Megan grins back at her. “An eye for an eye, or whatever?”

“I don’t think that’s how it goes,” Shay says. 

Shay feels incredibly light and she thinks it’s because this is something she didn’t even know that she needed. Even with all of the tension and sadness she feels because of everything with Monique and her mom, this warms her somewhere in her heart that she didn’t think could be possible. She knows logically that things won’t be perfect, and it’s always going to be a little awkward between her and Megan. But something about this just feels… nice. And it feels like they’ve not only finally forgiven one another, but themselves, too. 

Megan draws a smiley face on the table below them, using the condensation that’s dripped off of their smoothies onto the wood. 

“So, did this fulfill one of your steps, or whatever?” Shay teases, knocking her shoulder with Megan’s. “Getting forgiveness from loved ones, or whatever?”

Megan snorts. “Yeah, no. I did go to a few Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, but those weren't for me. They were really, really religious, and you know me.”

“Yeah, the last time you were in church was for your Confirmation,” Shay chuckles.

“Exactly. The ones I’m going to now are much more chill, and everyone is super nice about everything,” Megan says. “Everyone’s fucked up majorly, you know, but trying their best. I guess that’s all we can do.”

“Yeah,” Shay says. “Yeah. Megan… you know, I’m here for you. If you need anything.”

Megan’s eyes shine. “Thank you. And I’m here for you, too.”

“Do we, like... hug now?”

“I think we hug now.”

Shay laughs, and they both twist awkwardly to put their arms around each other. Shay breathes in the smell of Megan’s hair, the same strawberry shampoo that she’s always used filling her nostrils. She smiles, her cheek pressed against Megan’s shoulder. In some ways, it reminds Shay of home, but more than that, it reminds Shay of how far she’s come. 

When they pull apart, Megan has a coy smile on her face. “You know… Monique is really pretty.”

Shay feels her face heat up. “Yeah.”

“Zoya… said that you guys were like… fighting,” Megan says, “but I’m sure things will clear up.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, Monique’s been hanging out with us, you know, and I think it was really hard for her to be away from her other friends, starting senior year here, stuff like that, but… I don’t know Shay, I see the way she looks at you. She likes you a lot. She’s… she’s kinda quiet around us still, but she just lights up around you.” 

“Not anymore.”

“Don’t be like that. Everyone fights. Sometimes you just need time.”

Shay sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

“Besides, if you guys go to prom together, Jo owes me twenty bucks,” Megan grins.

“Shut the fuck up!” Shay laughs.

“I think that you guys will succumb to peer pressure and show up, but Jo thinks you’ll skip it to go make out on a movie theater or something,” Megan says. “I got a lot riding on this. I hear college textbooks are expensive.”

“I want half.”

“Deal.”

Shay smiles back at her, and Megan shifts, leaning against Shay’s arm.

+++


	7. Leaps of Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder for [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4XWEfhgjaeWfyFsaLCuZwi)! 
> 
> Also I just want to highlight that this chapter is a bit more explicit with homophobic and transphobic language, so just take care when reading!

+++

**Sunday, October 27, 2:08 PM**

Shay looks down at the grocery list in her Notes app, sighing to herself. The farmer’s market is really fucking busy, and she has to keep careening out of the way of the other shoppers who don’t seem to care that she’s lugging a giant cart behind her. Her father sent her to pick up “only organic, local stuff” because somehow, that’s supposed to help her mom more than whatever’s at the grocery store down the block. 

The next item on the list is honey, so she trudges forward, going towards a stand with the image of a bee on the canopy. Their tables are filled with not only jars of honey, some flavored and some plain, but a number of cosmetics products made from honey. There’s already a line out the stand, so Shay hovers near the edge, glancing over their lotion selection.

“Need help with anything?” A friendly voice asks her.

Shay glances up to see a fairly familiar face smiling at her, though she can’t quite place her. She’s wearing a white blouse, long white skirt, and white sneakers, with her hair hidden and piled up into a white headscarf. Shay’s eyes linger on the beaded necklace that hangs low on her chest. Her smile is open and welcoming, even as her eyes trace over Shay’s face in recognition.

“Uhm, I’m just looking for some honey,” Shay says. “The kind you eat.”

“That’s gonna be over here,” she says, gesturing for Shay to follow her. 

“Oh, thanks,” Shay says, rounding the stand and going over to the other end. “Uhm, I’m sorry, but do we know each other?”

The woman snorts, but not unkindly. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember, you were blazed out of your mind. I’m Asia, Monique’s cousin.”

Shay feels her cheeks burn. “Oh, damn. I - sorry, yeah, of course.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she says easily. “We’ve all been there.”

“Right.” Shay winces. “Uhm, well it’s good to see you again.” 

“You too,” Asia says, then smirks. “You probably don’t remember it, but I actually enjoyed our conversation when I dropped you off.”

“Oh God,” Shay laughs, embarrassed. “I hope I didn’t say anything too weird.”

“Nah, it was all in good fun. You mostly talked about how nice Mo’s photography is. It was sweet to listen to.”

Shay tries to laugh. “Honestly I mostly just remember what you wore. Is this like, your uniform?”

She says it before glimpsing around at the other people working the stand. One of them has on jeans and a flannel and the other one is wearing a flower-patterned romper. She winces at herself.

Asia doesn’t seem to mind, smiling at Shay. “I guess you could call it that, but it’s because I’m newly initiated.” 

“Initiated?” Shay raises her eyebrows. “Like, in a cult?”

Asia laughs so loudly a number of other customers stop to stare at her. The sound is booming, reverberating through the stand and bouncing off of Shay’s skin. Her coworkers don’t stop what they’re doing, and Shay wonders if they’re just so used to the sound that it doesn’t faze them anymore. Even Shay has to stop herself from looking around to see if anyone's noticed the noise. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed,” Asia says. “But it’s - no, it’s not a cult. It’s for Santería.” 

Shay furrows her brow. “It’s - Sorry, for what?” 

“It’s a religious thing,” Asia explains. 

“Oh,” Shay says. “Oh, uhm, I didn’t realize Muslims had to, uhm, be initiated. Sorry.”

Asia presses her lips together like she’s trying not to laugh. “No, it’s not a Muslim thing. Santería is a completely different thing. Well… not so completely different, but it’s a different belief system. It’s rooted in Yoruba traditions, like from West Africa.”

“Oh,” Shay says. “Well, I’m completely fucking up right now, so I should just go.”

This time, Asia does laugh. 

“No, you’re good. It’s not something a lot of people really know about. You should stay. Buy some honey, say hey to Mo.”

Shay fidgets. “Uhm, no that’s okay, I actually have to -”

Asia gives her a knowing look. “Well, she’s coming right over here so it’s either run or turn around.”

Before Shay can say anything else, Monique comes over, walking around Shay. She can see her in her peripheral vision, a vision in hunter green and gray turban. She has a camera bag around her shoulder, the camera in her hands. Monique glances at Shay before leaning over to press her cheek to Asia, giving her a hug. Shay watches as her spine straightens and then she turns to look at Shay fully. There’s a bit of latent anger in her eyes, but it’s mostly just embarrassed regret and resignation. It’s the same thing Shay feels in the pit of her stomach. 

“Hey,” Monique says. 

“Hi.”

“I didn’t know you shopped here,” Monique says tentatively. 

“Yeah, uhm, I don’t usually,” Shay says. “But my dad’s home, so he sent me on a mission.”

“Your dad?" Monique seems surprised, then looks bashful. "Oh, yah you... the chili." 

“Yeah,” Shay says. “He’s a truck driver so he’s not home a lot, but… yeah.”

She trails off as she realizes how much the two of them don't really know about each other. Shay knows that she likes Monique, more intensely than she’s ever felt about anyone. But it’s also only been a few weeks since they’ve hung out, and it’s not only the smaller details of each other’s life that they don’t know, but also the bigger emotions. Like, how Monique didn’t know that Shay runs away when she’s scared or how Shay doesn’t know how Monique deals with the aftermath of a fight. 

Shay meets Monique’s gaze and she realizes Monique is thinking the same thing. She barely notices as Asia looks between the two girls and then slowly moves away to help another customer. 

“I’m here almost every weekend,” Monique says. “I can show you around, if you want. Where to get the best deals, stuff like that.” 

“Sure,” Shay says slowly, then breaks into a small smile. “The next thing on my list is an olive branch. If you know where I can get that?”

Monique rolls her eyes in the cutest way possible, a smile playing on her face. 

“Yeah, I definitely know where you can get that,” she says. “Come on.”

_You are but a phoenix among feathers_

_You're broken by the waves among the sea_

_They'll let you die, they'll let you wash away_

_But you swim as well as you fly_

_Pretty little bird, pretty little bird_

_You've hit the window a few times (the window a few times)_

_You're pretty little bird, pretty little bird_

_You still ain't scared of no heights_

_When the spiral down feels as good as the flight_

_When hating you feels good for the night_

_When the morning comes, I hope you're still mine_

Shay notices how many people Monique actually does seem to know as they wind their way around booths and stands, with Monique pausing to point out who makes the best cider and who will definitely overcharge Black people for some kale. She pauses often to stop and take photos with her camera of things that seem pretty random to Shay; kids pointing out a pile of pumpkin gourds, a customer handing off their EBT card to a vendor, someone adjusting their tie at the free blood pressure readings booth. After every photo, Monique goes up to the subject to show them what she took, and to ask if she can keep it. When they say no she just smiles and deletes it, no questions asks. Shay notices that a lot more people say yes than anything though, seeming self-conscious and flattered that they’re the star of the picture.

Monique tells her, “I’ve been coming here since I was a kid with my mom. I used to beg her to use her phone just so I could take pictures of everything I saw. I don’t know why, it always just really interested me.” 

Shay asks, “Where’s your mom now?”

They stop to sit on a bench nearby a bakery stand that sells twenty different types of mini-loafs. Monique has a lapful of chocolate chip, apple cinnamon, and pumpkin nut breads, gesturing for Shay to take whichever one that she wants as she begins to unwrap and eat one herself. 

“Somewhere around here,” Monique snorts. “Probably teaching someone how to haggle in English.”

Shay furrows her brow. “Oh?”

“She’s an adult ESL teacher,” Monique says. “Mostly Spanish and Arabic but she’s trying to learn French too, cause that’s really common for some African Muslims here.” 

“Ah,” Shay says.

“She mostly works nights and weekends, so I guess that’s why we live with my grandparents and my aunts and cousins,” Monique explains. “That and the pay is shit.”

“But besides your other family, it’s just you and your mom?”

“And my little sister,” Monique reminds her. “I think she was at a sleepover when you came over.”

“Oh right,” Shay says. “Uhm, Nichelle, right?" 

"Yeah." Monique huffs. “She’s nine. Really smart, super popular. A cute kid, except when she’s with the cousins or her friends. Then they’re all just in your business.”

“It must be nice though, having so many people around,” Shay smiles. “All my grandparents are dead, and my dad was an only child. My mom has some siblings but they’re not in Texas, so I don’t see my cousins all that much.”

“It has its ups and downs,” Monique says. “Just like any family.”

“Yeah, but I bet you’re never lonely,” Shay says.

Monique looks away. “I mean, sometimes. Just cause I’m always surrounded by people doesn’t mean I don’t get lonely.”

Shay winces. “Alone, then.”

“True that.” Monique meets her eyes. “What about you? It’s just your parents, right?”

“Well, most times it’s just me and my mom, since my dad’s on the road for work so much.” Shay says. “And my mom doesn’t… really work that much cause… she’s sick.”

Monique glances away. “Oh.”

“I mean, she does secretary work and like, sometimes organizes events for the church she goes to,” Shay says. “But it doesn’t pay that much.”

“And that’s why your dad’s away a lot?” Monique asks. “To help pay the bills and stuff?”

“Yeah, like she gets, uhm, disability benefits from the government but it’s kinda shit, so.”

Monique shakes her head. “This country is fucked all the way up.”

Shay snorts. “Tell me about it.”

“Is she… okay though? Your mom? Or is she…” Monique winces. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Shay says. “She has sickle cell anemia. So, she’s… doing as best as she can. She just got out of the hospital for a pretty bad infection but she’ll… do what she can.”

Recognition lights in Monique's eyes. "Oh, shit. That must be really hard."

“Yeah, she’s in pain a lot,” Shay says. “And there’s no cure, so.”

“I mean,” Monique pauses. “I mean, that must be hard for you. To have to see your mom go through that and take care and her and stuff.”

“I mean, it is what it is.” Shay shrugs, uncomfortable. “Some days are better than others.”

“When I came to your house, was it… one of the bad days?”

Shay flushes. “It… wasn’t great. For either of us.”

“I’m sorry that I just… showed up like that,” Monique says. “What you said about me not knowing what was happening with you and everything… you were right. I was just… in my own head about what went down at the party and just… not in a great place myself.”

“No, that was… it was on me, too,” Shay says hesitantly. “I was… like I just panicked, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t handle it great, at all. I was just… you and my mom meeting, and I was also fighting with my boys like… it was a lot. I’m sorry too. For that, for going off on you in the hallway.”

“Me too,” Monique says. “I just… sometimes I’m just so pissed off that I can’t even like… all that I can focus on is how angry I am, and then it gets me in trouble, and… yeah.”

Shay tries to joke, “like when you punched the fuck out of Hunter?”

Monique doesn’t laugh. “Yeah, that exactly. And that’s… it’s what I wanted to talk to you about, what I was trying to explain.”

Monique stares down at her lap, picking at the half-eaten cinnamon loaf that she started. There’s a shift in the air between them, as swift as if a breeze had gone by. The smile drops off of Shay’s face and she sits in the silence, waiting for Monique to start speaking again. When she does, she doesn’t look at Shay, but out into the farmer’s market. 

“When I feel things, it’s very intense,” she says quietly. “Like when I’m really hype over something, I get really hype over it. I start to fixate on it, and I can’t sleep because that’s all I’m thinking about. Or when I’m really upset, like sad or angry, it’s… it’s really bad. Like I don’t care about anything and I just like, spiral. And...”

She stops for a moment, swallowing hard.

“And it’s like, sometimes I don’t know if I can trust my emotions because my brain just feels all fucked up,” Monique says.

Shay doesn’t know what to say, so she remains quiet.

“And like, I don’t know, I thought that’s how everyone was, I didn’t think...” Monique stops. “Anyway. I thought it was normal, or okay, or whatever, but then last year...”

Shay whispers, “last year?”

“In the spring, like, right after the SATs, I was just...” Monique swallows. “I don’t remember what happened to… trigger it, I guess, but… I was in a really, really bad place. Worse than it ever was before, just thinking about how worthless I was and how stupid I was and how if I was gone, like, anyone else could easily fill in whatever hole I left behind, if I even did…”

“Oh,” Shay says softly.

“Yeah. And so, I tried to...” 

“Right.”

“It didn’t work, obviously, but… Asia found me, and then she took me to the hospital, and they put me in this psych ward for two weeks, and…” she snorts a bit, something sad and ironic. “Then I found out that it’s like, you know, not normal to constantly tell yourself that you’re a piece of shit that people don’t really need in their lives.”

Shay says, “you have depression?”

“That’s what the doctors said when I was hospitalized, but a couple of months ago, my therapist said that I might have bipolar disorder,” Monique says. “A lot of the signs fit, but it’s harder to diagnose this stuff in Black women, cause doctors are so used to looking for it in white people. That's what she told me.”

“Fuck,” Shay says.

“Yeah, I know it’s a lot,” Monique says. “And I don’t mean to just… throw this all at you, but I wanted to just explain why… like it’s not an excuse but sometimes… and therapy and stuff has helped but… I’m never gonna be cured of it. I don’t even know… like what parts of me are me or what parts of me are this disease. Maybe there’s no separating it, I don’t know. It’s like with your mom, I guess.”

Shay frowns. “I mean, isn’t it different though? I’m not… trying to tell you about your own illness but my mom’s disease, like, it affects her whole life, it keeps her in bed for days, it…”

She stops herself, realizing just how silly she sounds, when the two things aren’t really all that different at all. Monique gives her a knowing look, like she’s heard arguments like this many times. 

“Do you know how many doctors have said, ‘oh, just get up, it’s in your head, it’s just teenage laziness, you’re fine’?” Monique huffs. “Or teachers telling me I have an attitude problem when it’s not that at all. But that was just them putting that on me. That was them just not... not understanding what else was going on. I bet your mom’s heard more than enough of that shit, too.”

Shay flushes. “Honestly I’ve never thought about it.”

“So, that’s what I wanted to tell you, to try and explain like, why I punched Hunter,” Monique says after a pause. “Smoking sometimes helps me chill out, but my therapist thinks I should stop cause she wants to put me on meds that might interact with it badly. So, there’s that.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Shay says. “Even though… you know, I wasn’t even freaked out about the Hunter thing. He’s gross.”

Monique says, “I know. And... it wasn’t just what he said to us, it was all the shit from last year too.”

Shay frowns. “From last year?”

“Yeah, with Zoya.”

“I don’t…” Shay pauses. “I don’t know what that means. You know, Zoya and I aren’t friends like, at all. She basically only started talking to me this year cause of you.”

Monique snorts. “Right.”

“No, it’s true,” Shay says. “ A few weeks ago, she cornered me in the parking lot to tell me she could help me and invited me to your friend’s party.” 

Monique laughs. “She’s much more of a softie than she lets on. She seriously believes in romance and soulmates and all that. And she… like thinks we’re good together.”

“Seriously?” Shay shakes her head. “I’m positive she hates my guts.”

“No, she’s just really loyal, and hardheaded,” Monique says. “Lala is always saying it’s a double-edged sword, especially when we’re together. Sometimes… we just feed off each other’s energies.”

“Yah, I definitely felt that,” Shay mutters. 

“Sorry,” Monique says.

“No, it’s okay,” Shay says. “It’s… I get it.”

Silence falls between them, and it feels fragile more than anything else. Shay’s not sure what to say, exactly. Monique having a mental illness doesn’t scare or her bother her, like at all; she’s not sure what Monique was worried about her knowing but she just feels… relieved that they’re even speaking again. But the major issue just seems like… well, where do they go from here? They’ve talked things through, but they weren’t even together to begin with, or at least no officially or anything. It’s not like they can go back to how carefree it was before, can they? Now that they know enough to try and be careful? 

“I… missed hanging out with you,” Monique says finally. “And, I wanna do that more.”

Shay’s heart warms, because it’s like she’s read her mind and have her an answer. In a matter of moments, it’s clicked in place; maybe not perfectly, but well enough to still fit. Maybe it really is that simple; that tentative; that new. 

“I missed you too,” she says.

She moves her hand slowly, putting it in Monique’s lap. She traces her fingers along the back of Monique’s hand until she flips it over, palm up. They look at each other, and Shay molds her fingers around Monique’s until they’re holding hands. The sun shines down on the back of her neck, and Monique smiles at her.

+++

**Sunday, October 27, 7:16 PM  
**

_New message from: **Dingleberries**_

I ran into Monique at the farmer's market

_[Tyler]_

Wtf why were you at the farmer's market 

That's not the point doofus

_[Mar]_

Wait what happened with Monique?

_[Tyler]_

Was it a catfight near the cabbages 

Classy

But no we... made up 

It was really sweet, we said we missed each other and then held hands

She helped me find the best produce 

_[Tyler]_

That's so gay

_[Mar]_

What he means to say is that's really great and we're happy for you

Thanks MARLON

_[Mar]_

Also that that sounds really gay 

I hate you guys

_[Tyler]_

Love you too Shaaaaaaaaady 

+++

**Monday, October 28, 9:17 AM**

“As Halloween is just a few days away, this is your last reminder about what is and isn’t appropriate to wear to school. Anything obscene, vulgar, or in violation of the dress school will result in immediate dismissal for the day and two weeks’ worth of in-school suspension.”

The loudspeaker crackles with the announcement, the same one that’s given every year, though Shay has yet to see a Kitten get sent home for being a sexy nurse, firefighter, or literal kitten. She’s also pretty sure the white jackass who dressed up as an “immigrant” last year, complete with sombrero, dirt streaks and a dark mustache, only had to take off the more racialized parts of his costume. 

She rolls her eyes, rolling her neck to stretch it out. As she does, she’s sure she catches a few people already looking back at her. She stops her stretches and looks around the room. More than one person averts their eyes or startles when she looks back at them. Shay frowns at one girl that she had gym with last year who’s blatantly staring at her, Francis something-or-other. They maintain eye contact for a few moments before the Francis breaks, turning to whisper something to the boy sitting next to her. He glances back at Shay and snorts. 

“Group costumes are totally not dorky,” Kelsey is saying. “Right Shay?”

Shay startles. “What?”

Kelsey is smiling at her a little too brightly while Zoya rolls her eyes. When she catches Shay’s look, she just raises one eyebrow at her, the rest of her face unreadable.

“Well, you, Marlon and Tyler go as a group costume each year, right? Isn’t it fun?”

It takes Shay’s brain a moment to catch up to the conversation. “Uhm, Yeah. Last year we did the Three Stooges.” 

“See?” Kelsey pokes Zoya’s arm. “It's a thing.”

“Yah, maybe if there’s only three of you,” Zoya says. “A group costume for six people? Also, Mo would never agree to that. Shay knows.”

Shay startles, And Zoya is smiling at her coyly. Shay wants to rile up some kind of righteous anger at Zoya, but she can’t quite seem to manage it.

“Oh, so I’m back in your good graces?” She mutters.

“Consider yourself lucky,” Zoya says. “I still haven’t forgiven Daniel fully.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Shay says.

“Anyway,” Kelsey says, “I already told you my idea to go as the cast of Clue! That will be easy, and no one would be left out. You’d be a perfect Mrs. White!”

“Most of my clothes are black,” Zoya mutters wryly.

“It’s always good to try new things,” Kelsey says sweetly. 

At the front of the room, Mr. Anderson claps his hands rapidly. 

“Alright, everyone, time for a large group discussion,” he says. “Hope you all did the readings on Altitude Express Inc. v. Zarda, Bostock v. Clayton County, and R.G. & G.R. Harris Funeral Homes v. EEOC this weekend. Now, as you should all know, these cases are extremely important because the Supreme Court will decide whether or not it’s legal to fire workers because of their sexual orientation or gender identity. You may be asking, ‘Mr. Anderson, why are we studying this if it won’t be on the A.P. test?’ Well, it’s because it’s important to be civically engaged in what’s happening instead of just getting your news from Instagram influencers.”

Shay rolls her eyes. 

“Now, there’s very strong arguments on both sides of the cases,” Mr. Anderson says. “So, who wants to go first to defend either side's position, using legal precedence?” 

Shay stares in surprise as Francis glances at her before raising her hand.

“Yes, Ms. Figaro?” 

“Well, the law says that jobs can only ban discrimination because of ‘sex,’ which doesn’t include whether you’re like, gay or transgender,” Francis says. “Title VII was clearly not supposed to protect those people.”

Shay feels her jaw clench at the wording. 

“Ms. Russell?”

“But that argument doesn’t make sense, like one of the readings pointed out. That discriminating against someone for being gay means they were fired for being men who like men exclusively. That’s sex discrimination,” Kelsey says. “Also, firing a trans woman for just existing? Literally sex discrimination.” 

“It totally isn’t,” Francis says. “There are only two sexes, and I don’t care what you call yourself, if you’re born male then that’s what you are. It’s not your job’s… like, job to cater to that.” 

“Oh, come on!” Kelsey snorts. “First of all, that’s a totally gross claim to make, and second of all -”

“Ms. Russell, calling something ‘totally gross’ is not a legally founded argument,” Mr. Anderson says. “And for the record, neither is your argument, Ms. Figaro.”

Another student, Roger, raises his hand. “Well, some would argue that this isn’t the job of the Supreme Court, but of Congress. If the Supreme Court rules on this, they’re essentially making legislation, right?” 

Zoya raises her hand. 

“Ms. Ali?”

“That’s a dumb technicality, especially considering that the Senate has a Republican majority headed by a bald-headed, turtle-looking -”

“Ms. Ali, watch your next few words,” Mr. Anderson interrupts.

Zoya clenches her jaw. “- and the Supreme Court has previously ruled in cases like Price Waterhouse v. Hopkins that Title VII includes gender stereotyping. Firing someone for being a trans woman when you incorrectly think they’re a man or firing someone for being gay cause you incorrectly think that’s sinful, is gender stereotyping."

"Ms. Para?"

"I have to agree with Zoya, especially because the Supreme Court failing to protect these workers would effectively legalize employment discrimination against LGBTQ people.” 

Francis raises her hand again. “I mean, I’m totally… against discrimination, but this is really about workplace safety.” 

Mr. Anderson frowns thoughtfully. “Ms. Figaro, elaborate.”

“I mean, let’s say that the boss in Harris Funeral Homes like… lets this person dress and act like a woman,” Francis says. “Then that means this biologically male person is using the woman’s bathroom and stuff. And like, I for one don’t want to have to worry about some dude trying to assault me when I’m just trying to wash my hands or whatever.”

Zoya snaps, “Oh cool, using baseless transphobic arguments to further ‘support’ your dumbass opinions!” 

“Ms. Ali!”

“What?” Francis glares back. “Look, I personally think it should be illegal for any of those people to use our bathrooms or locker rooms or whatever -”

A number of people in the class start speaking all at once, either to jeer or shout out that they agree with Francis. Shay feels the same numb, frozen feeling that she did at Lana’s party. Part of her wants to get up and start yelling, like Kelsey and Zoya; a larger part of her can’t even more her eyes, her vision zeroing in on Francis’s face, slowly turning red. 

“Settle down!” Mr. Anderson yells. 

But above the fray, Francis just raises her voice.

“Just because some of y’all are cool with hanging around dykes or whatever doesn’t mean all of us are. Some of us take God’s word seriously.”

Shay stares off into space, a dull roar crashing through her ears like an ocean wave beating onto the shoreline. She barely notices the way that Francis is shooting her another disgusted look. Shay belated hears the scrape of a chair go back, and it’s only after Francis flinches that she realizes that she’s even moved at all. Suddenly, there’s a hand on her arm, and she turns to see Kelsey digging her fingernails into her skin. The room erupts into small titters and distressed murmurs that only grow louder as Shay manages to slink back down into her chair. She doesn’t know if it’s Kelsey pulling her down or her own legs collapsing or what, but she falls into the seat with a hard thump. 

“Settle down!” Mr. Anderson booms. “Everyone, settle down!” 

The room goes silent.

“Ms. Figaro, watch your language. This is supposed to be a civil debate, not the basketball court. And that goes for the rest of you, too. If you can’t voice your opinions without become hostile, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the room.”

“Becoming hostile?”

For a moment, Shay thinks that the voice belongs to her, low and furious. But when she slowly comes back to her body, she realizes that it’s Kelsey, her face completely red.

“Yes, Ms. Russell,” Mr. Anderson says. “If you can’t learn to control your emotions and look at these situations objectively -”

“But they’re not objective,” Zoya says, voice loud and incredulous. “And it’s ridiculous that we even have to debate something like this. You try to pose all of these as if both sides are equal, but they’re not. There’s a right side and a bigoted side, and you’re just letting people say whatever they want as long as it’s said politely and in a nice enough tone?”

“Ms. Ali -”

“No,” Zoya says. “No. I’ve had to withstand a million microaggressions at this damned school and not once have you or any other teacher stood up for me! Do you even - there are LGBTQ students in this classroom right now, and you’re not even bothering to stand up for them!”

“Ms. Ali!” Mr. Anderson glares at her. “One more word and -”

“One more word and what?” 

This time, the words are coming out of Shay. They’re tumbling out all at once, everything she’s ever wanted to say to her parents, to her teachers, to her fucking classmates, spilling out of her mouth. She’s half-rising out of her seat again, her voice growing louder and louder the more words that come out of her mouth. 

“And what?” she repeats herself. “You’ll throw Zoya out of class, just because you can’t handle a student pointing out your wrong? Francis should’ve been booted out the moment she said dyke, and yet a student defending herself is somehow wrong?”

“Ms. Dixon -”

An ear-piercing, shrill bell starts ringing, and everyone in the room groans. Mr. Anderson checks his watch, and then visibly sags in relief. Shay catches the disgusted look Kelsey is staring at him with, her lip curled up and her eyes piercing. Zoya’s rolling her eyes. The loud sound of the fire alarm going off only makes Shay’s annoyance spike.

“Okay, okay guys, it’s just a drill,” he cups his hands to shout to the room. “Get in two lines, and let’s follow our fire safety instructions.”

He goes over to the door and props it open, and everyone starts moving to form a line and leave the room. Shay waits until most of the class is gone before getting up, slinging her bag over her shoulder. It’s only then that Kelsey and Zoya get up too, basically flanking Shay on either side. Kelsey loops her arm through Shay’s, and Zoya walks between her and Mr. Anderson as they go through the doorway. Shay almost opens her mouth to ask what they’re doing, before she realizes what this is, something that blurs the line between solidarity and friendship. They silently walk down the hallway, already crowded with other students. 

“Zoya, Shay, Kelsey,” a voice says to their left.

Shay glances over. 

“Hey, Poonam,” Kelsey says.

Poonam clears her throat. “I want to congratulate you all on being completely correct and uninhibited in class back there.”

“Uh,” Shay says. “Thank you?”

“I’m especially surprised at you Shay,” Poonam says. “I had you pegged for the strong, silent type, but now I see I have to reassess my initial estimate of you.”

“Right.”

“Zoya was of course no surprise, though I have to admit Kelsey’s punch has become more impactful over the years,” Poonam continues. 

Kelsey smiles brightly. “Thank you!” 

“I’m just stating a fact,” Poonam says. “No need to thank me. That stuff happens in class all the time, it’s nice when there’s some pushback.”

“Well, thank you anyway,” Zoya says.

It’s almost fond, and Shay catches Zoya’s eyes. They grin at each other, and somehow, it’s easy coming, even with the torrent of annoyance still dwelling inside of her. 

+++

**Tuesday, October 29, 6:04 PM**

_Treat me like_

_(Treat me like) Treat me like_

_(Fire) Fire, (Fire) Fire_

_(Into the pain) Into the pain_

_(Into the pain) Into the pain_

_Hey boy, I like your style_

_come over here, let's talk awhile_

_yeah you, I'm curious_

_what we would do, the two of us_

_what would you like to do, do?_

_I'll duce to you, too_

_My eyes, my lips, my hair_

_If you're good we'll go from there._

_I'm feeling you, and I know that you want me, too_

_In the end I'm doing me, that's all you got to see_

_Hey, that's just how it is, but I got a touch of this_

_I'm a bit too dangerous, If you want me you should just._

Shay sits at the kitchen table, textbooks spread across the thin, clear plastic cover over the tablecloth. Her father hums along in the kitchen, making some kind of whole wheat pasta. Shay can see the curl of steam from the pot from her seat, her stomach growling at the smell of onions and garlic cooking in the pan right next to it. 

“So, what are you reading for school nowadays?” he asks as he slowly stirs the sauce.

Shay distractedly says, “Uh, we just did _Invisible Man,_ and now we’re doing _Beloved_.”

“Toni Morrison?” her father makes a noise of approval. “‘As He says also in Hosea: ‘I will call them My people, who were not My people, and her beloved, who was not beloved.’”

Shay glances up. “Huh?”

“Romans,” her dad answers. “The epigraph at the beginning of the novel.”

Shay puts the novel down. “How come you and Mom always have a Bible quote on hand? How do you memorize this stuff?”

“This stuff?” her dad shoots her a crooked grin. “That’s what our Lord’s work has been reduced to, huh?”

Shay makes a noncommittal noise.

“I guess it’s the same way that you’re able to write and memorize all those songs of yours,” her dad says more seriously. 

“I guess,” Shay says. “But those have rhythms, melodies.”

“So do Bible verses,” her dad counters.

Shay makes a non-committal noise. 

“But that’s real good, that you’re reading Morrison,” her dad says. “May God rest her soul. We never read any Black writers when I was in school.”

“No?”

“No, we barely read white women, but that was also the 80s,” her dad says. “Man, I remember my English teacher tried to assign Lolita, there was an uproar. Cold War and all of that.”

“That’s crazy,” Shay says. “I mean, yeah, we talked a little about how Beloved and some other books are always getting banned from classrooms and stuff though.”

“I’m not surprised,” her father hums. “Sometimes people are scared of what they don’t understand. Parents trying to protect their kids, but they can’t. The irony of it.”

“Irony?”

He gestures towards her book. “Can’t say too much without spoiling it, now.” 

“Right,” Shay says. 

She picks her book up again without another comment, flipping through it to find the right chapter for her homework assignment. As she does, her fingers feel the edges of what feels like a photograph, stuck between the pages of her book. She pauses, going back to the page and opening the book wider. A photograph drops out, floating onto the tabletop. 

Shay frowns, holding _Beloved _in one hand and using her finger to mark the page. She picks up the photograph with her other hand, studying the image on it. It’s a black and white photo of two boys, laughing with their heads bent close together, as if they’re about to kiss. One of them is just staring adoringly at the other, while the second one grins widely at the camera. In the background of the photo, someone has drawn green and purple aliens and a blue spaceship in Sharpie. Shay frowns down at it in bewilderment before turning the photograph over. 

_Shay and Monique in an (alternative) galaxy far, far away…_

“What do you have there?”

Shay startles, glancing up to see her dad looking at her with a smile on his face, wiping his hands off on a dishtowel. Her heart starts racing, her hands feeling clumsy as she quickly turns the photograph back over and trying to shove it into her book.

“It’s nothing,” Shay says. “Some - some photograph that a friend gave me. I forgot I left it in here.”

“That doesn’t sound like nothing, not with the way you’ve been starting at it for five minutes,” he says, walking over to the table. “Can I see it?” 

Her mind goes blank. 

Before she can think of some kind of probable excuse for why he can’t look at the photo, he leans over, gently taking the book from her hands. Shay hearts pounds so loudly she can barely hear the music over it, unable to do anything but stare up at her dad. He pages through the book before stopping at the photograph. His mouth turns down into a slight frown and he reaches for it, turning it around to look at it from a different angle. Shay swallows down the massive lump in her throat, praying, just fucking praying, that he doesn’t turn it over.

“This is… interesting,” he says cautiously. 

“Yeah,” is the only noise she can make.

He closes the book, leaving the photograph inside and handing it back to Shay. Numbly, she reaches out for it, curling her fingers around it protectively. Her breathing feels short and shallow as she tries to prepare herself for the worse.

“I just don’t understand the aliens though,” he says, brow furrowing. “Why would you scribble all over such a lovely photograph?”

“A lovely photograph?” Shay chokes out.

Her dad shrugs agreeably. “Well, yes. There’s so much emotion in this picture. These two boys… they look so happy, so lost in their own love. Don’t they?”

Shay makes a gurgling noise that must sound like she’s agreeing with him.

“Yeah, so I feel like… well, you would know more about art than your old man would,” her dad says. “I just think the drawings are… odd.”

“It’s...”

Shay finds herself wanting to defend Monique but can’t quite seem to figure out how to do it. 

“It’s?”

“It’s… an inside joke. Uhm. About existential musings.”

“Existential musings,” her dad repeats. “About… two men kissing?”

“Something like that,” Shay chokes. “It was more about… like, if parallel universes exist.”

“Is that where the aliens come in?”

“I guess,” Shay says. “I don’t know, I guess it was more about faith.”

“Faith?” her dad raises his eyebrows. “Well. If this friend can get you engaged in a conversation about faith, then bring on the aliens.”

“Hardy har,” Shay mutters.

He goes back to the stove. “No, I’m serious Shay. I know you… find your mother and I overbearing, or even embarrassing sometimes. But… we just want to share in our joy in God with you. And… you know, it’s okay that you’re not going to church and things like that. But just… you know… keep an open mind. We are.”

Shay barely restraints the snort that’s about to come out of her mouth. “You are?”

He nods. “We are. Because we love you, honey. We just want you to be happy with who you are.”

It makes Shay’s heart ache. She stares down at the cover of her book, unsure of what to say next, unsure of what even to think.

“I love you too,” is what she comes up with. 

It’s the only truthful thing she can think to say next. 

+++

**Wednesday, October 30, 12:11 PM**

_I can't believe all of the things they say about me_

_Walk in the room they throwing shade left to right_

_They be like ooh, she's so fun face_

_And I just tell em, cut me up, and get down_

_They call us dirty cause we break all your rules down_

_And we just came to act a fool, is that all right?_

_(Girl, that's alright)_

_They be like, ooh let them eat cake_

_But we eat wings and throw them bones on the ground_

“So then after, I’m throwing the condom out, and he asks if I want to go get tacos,” Tyler says. “And I ask him, oh you go get tacos and bring them back here? And he says no, we go get tacos together. As a date.”

They’re sitting at their usual spot under the bleachers, waiting for Marlon to come. He promised to pick up lunch for them all, promising to do IHOP takeout. It’s a little cold to be outside, but Shay needed a break from the feeling of everyone staring at her. 

Shay raises her eyebrows. “Has that actually ever happened before?”

“No,” Tyler says.

“So, what did you do?”

“I told him no,” Tyler says. “The sex wasn’t that great, and I actually realized… I don’t really like him.” 

“Oh,” Shay says. “Well… that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Tyler says. “And I know you’re worried about my dating habits -” 

“Does ‘dating’ really apply here?”

“But this was different, like. Talking to you and Mar actually helped… and it’s okay for me to turn guys down and like, try to find a real connection or whatever if that’s what I want. Who knew?”

He grins cheekily at Shay and she slugs him in the shoulder.

“By the way, I meant to tell you, I like the new look,” Tyler says. 

He gestures towards Shay’s plain white t-shirt, bomber jacket, and grey sweatpants. She hasn’t even bothered to put earrings on today, and it’s really nice. 

“Thanks,” Shay says. “I’m just trying it out.”

“It suits you,” he says.

“Yeah?” she smiles.

“Yeah,” Tyler says. 

“I’m… not sure how much more I can get away with it, though,” Shay says. “I feel like… my parents are bound to notice something. Start asking questions.”

“Or throwing holy water on you?”

“Haha,” Shay says sarcastically.

Tyler hesitates. “You think it would really be that bad? If they… started asking questions?”

Shay swallows down her immediate response of _yes, duh_ and takes a deep breath. 

“I don’t know,” she says carefully. “My dad saw this photo that Monique gave to me -”

Tyler interrupts her, “Monique gave you… a photo? Of what?”

Shay winces slightly. “Okay, it’s gonna sound weird -”

“Was it tastefully done nudes?”

“What?” Shay pushes him. “No, it was a photo of two guys kissing.”

Tyler blinks at her. “Two guys kissing.”

“Yes.”

“Okay…”

“It’s a long story, dickwad,” Shay says defensively.

“Ooh, touchy,” Tyler grins.

“Anyway,” Shay says loudly, “my dad saw the photo and didn’t… go on a homophobic rant. It was actually kind of sweet. But… I don’t know. I’m a girl, and I’m his kid. And who knows how my mom would react.”

“Yeah,” Tyler says softly. “I’m sorry about that, Shady.”

“I don’t know,” Shay says. “Before this year, it wasn’t even on my radar to tell them. But now… you, Monique, Diana… I just know so many people who are out to their parents, and everything turned out okay, and I just think… why not me?”

“They might surprise you,” Tyler says.

Shay sighs. “Or they might not.” 

A few moments later, a familiar face pops into Shay’s frame of view, closely followed by a Kittens jacket and my matching track pants. Shay stares in surprise and Abby gestures towards someone behind her, flipping her long hair over one shoulder. The next thing she knows, a small crew of Kittens are standing in front of them, looking at Shay with what can only be described as a girl power gaze. Besides her, Tyler has fallen silent, his mouth partially open.

“Can we… help you?” Tyler asks. “Look, we already stopped smoking here last year -” 

Abby smiles, something that resembles a cringe. “No, it’s not that. We actually wanted to talk to Shay.”

Shay’s eyebrows go so high she’s sure they’ve disappeared into her hairline. “Uhm… Yeah?”

Abby gestures to the girls beside her. “We just want you to know that we like, support you one hundred percent.”

Shay blinks at her. “Okay?”

A girl with curly red hair, who Shay vaguely recognizes as Lana McDonnell steps forward slightly. 

“I had no idea that Hunter was so skeevy,” she starts.

Abby coughs, and Lana cuts her eyes at her for a moment before continuing.

“I mean, he totally told me that he was a changed dude and all this stuff, but I’m through letting him like, manipulate me. Not after what he did to you.””

Shay’s mouth twitches. “Right.”

She shrugs. “Yah, and I’m sorry he spread all your business around, but I swear he stopped after I threatened to tell everyone how small his dick is. So anyway, I totally dumped his ass after I found out what he said to you and your… uhm… partner?”

Abby looks like she’s barely repressing rolling her eyes. “Anyway, yah, it not cool and Hunter is a huge asshole. So just so you know, we’re like, here to support you and we’re blacklisting Hunter from all our parties and stuff.”

One of the other girls pipes in, “like, girls should be able to just kiss other girls without gross dudes getting in the way.”

“And the football guys agree, like especially after they beat up those homophobes last year, it’s not surprising,” Lana says, “And we’re gonna like, rewrite our charters to have a strictly no gay bullying policy.” 

“Uh,” Shay says.

“This is amazing,” Tyler says like he’s watching National Geographic.

“Yeah, Kelsey’s in the GSA or whatever, so she’s helping us with that,” Abby says. “I’m sure she’ll talk to you more about it at the meetings.” 

“Anyway, we just wanted to let you know,” Lana says. 

Most of them seem to be waiting for some kind of affirmation from Shay, but she’s frankly too surprised to say anything. Abby folds her lips together like she knows the whole thing is kind of ridiculous but is trying not to laugh. The whole thing seems like some kind of fever dream, especially considering the last time she spoke to Abby was to tell her about Megan and that Jordan guy. 

“Right,” Shay says. “Uh, Love is love?”

“Love is love!” Lana says.

“Cool,” Abby says. “So, anyway, we’ll catch you around.”

They stalk off as quickly as they appeared, leaving Shay to just blink off into space. Tyler makes a small gurgling noise like he’s trying not to laugh. When Shay manages to look over at him, his entire face is red. As they make eye contact, they both burst into laughter, cackling so hard and for so long that Shay’s stomach starts to hurt. 

+++

**Thursday, October 31, 12:09 PM**

_You're all I've ever wanted_

_But I'm terrified of you_

_See, my castle may be haunted_

_But I'm terrified of you_

_I've cast my spell on millions_

_But I'm terrified of you_

_Baby, I do this from the ceiling_

_But I'm terrified of you_

_I wait my whole life to bite the right one_

_Then you come along and that freaks me out_

_So I'm frightened_

_Dracula's wedding_

“Damn girl, who knew you had an ass like that?”

Shay startles, her head in her locker as she digs through it looking for _Beloved_. She accidentally smacks it against the side of the metal as she tries to jerk out of it, twisting to gasp in disbelief at the person standing right next to her. She almost chokes on her spit when she sees Jo grinning at her, standing next to an unimpressed Zoya and Monique who clearly is trying not to laugh. 

Jo points one long nail at Shay, painted like a sugar skull. “Who knew you were hiding all of that?”

“Monique, apparently,” Zoya deadpans.

She and Jo high five as Monique rolls her eyes heavenward. Shay shifts uncomfortably, happy that her long, black wig can hide half of her face. She wiggles a bit, trying to pull the pleather wedgie out of her butt without making it too obvious in the middle of the hallway. She’s not used to wearing such tight clothes or materials, but Tyler had insisted that if they’re gonna do Charlie’s Angels, they needed to do it all the way. 

“Papi Tyler looks cute as Drew Barrymore, by the way,” Jo says, and then sighs. “One of the best things about Halloween is how hot everyone looks.”

“Right,” Shay says, then smirks. “I see Kelsey won the battle of the costumes.”

Jo is dressed in a sequined red dress and long red opera gloves, a magnifying glass stuck in her bun. Zoya is wearing all blue, with a feather tucked into her turban and a long, flimsy shawl draped over her outfit. Monique has on a dark purple jumpsuit with a pipe sticking out of her front pocket and huge, wire-rimmed glasses. Shay can’t tell if she thinks it’s the dorkiest or the most adorable thing she’s seen in her life.

“Only halfway,” Zoya says. “It took almost too long for her to understand why a white girl carrying around a noose was a bad idea.”

Shay almost chokes on her spit laughing, but it dies when she sees Monique wince.

“Oh, fuck,” Shay says. “You’re not fucking with me?”

“She means well,” is the only thing Jo can say in response. 

“Speaking of meaning well,” Zoya says. “There was something we wanted to talk to you about, about what happened in Anderson's class.”

Shay’s eyes dart to Monique, her face flushing. Monique gives her a small, sympathetic smile. 

“What happened was seriously messed up,” Zoya continues. “And afterwards, we all got to talking about it and realized… this shit happens every day at this school.”

Shay says, “What do you mean?”

Jo responds, “All five of us, even Grace and Kels, had stories about some teacher or administration saying something really gross to us. Even if it was played off as a joke or something, we all realized the adults here are severely fucked up.”

“And when it’s not the adults, it’s them letting guys or white students just say whatever they want,” Zoya says. “Meanwhile, it’s mostly women of color being sent to detention for talking out of turn, or having a bad attitude, or whatever.”

Shay shifts her weight from one foot to the next. “Okay...”

“So, we got to thinking -” Jo starts.

“Girl don’t downplay it, it was all your idea,” Monique interrupts, smiling at her.

“Word,” Zoya says. 

Jo smiles bashfully. “Okay, so I got to thinking, we should do something about that.”

“Do something?”

Jo nods. “Yeah. We want to stage a protest around all these, like, microaggressions that we have to deal with every day.”

Shay raises her eyebrows. “A protest?”

“Yeah,” Jo says. “We want to organize a walk-out, maybe have an art installation or something. To like, expose all the bullshit that we hear, despite the fact that this school claims to be a safe environment.”

“It’s gonna involve a bunch of other stuff too, like a list of demands,” Zoya says. “But we’re trying to get as many people involved as possible. We’re not posting on social media and stuff cause… we want the administration to be surprised. And word can get out way too quickly from someone’s Twitter.”

“That’s…” Shay nods. “That’s actually really cool.”

Jo beams. “Thanks.”

“We also thought it would be cool if your band could do something?” Monique says, eyes shining. “An anthem or something?”

Shay stands there for a moment, thinking about this whole project. Something inside of her begins to blossom, and suddenly she can feel a new rhythm, already starting to compose itself. She finds herself nodding, a smile spreading across her face as she thinks about how fucking cool this really could be, and how they might actually be able to have their voices heard. She’s never thought about doing something like this before in school, and honestly, why would she? But this, it’s different than homecoming or joining clubs or anything like that. It’s personal.

“I’ll talk to the guys,” Shay says, “But… yeah, I’m in. I’m totally in.”

“Awesome,” Zoya says, a real smile spreading on her face. “I think this will be really good.”

“And if not, we’re outta here in a few months anyway,” Jo adds.

Shay snorts, and Zoya rolls her eyes. Monique has a small smile playing around her mouth. It distracts Shay for a moment, before she lets out a small sigh.

“I mean - look, this is really cool,” Shay says. “But… you know, is Megan…?”

Zoya blinks are her for a moment before understanding dawns on her. “Oh, yeah. She’s… I mean her and Marlon are still…”

“Lovers to enemies?” Jo supplies.

Zoya gives her a stank look. “Right. But, if Marlon’s cool, then Megan’s cool.”

“I think Marlon’s cool,” Shay says. “I mean - yeah. Okay.”

“Okay,” Zoya nods. “Anyway, we’re gonna try to catch a few more people before the lunch crush happens. Catch you later?”

“Later,” Shay says.

To her surprise, Jo slaps Monique a high five, and then she and Zoya walk back in the direction of the cafeteria. The hallway has mostly thinned out, just a few straggled still at their lockers of milling around the water fountain. Monique smiles shyly at Shay, causing Shay’s heartbeat to quicken. She wishes she could reach out and kiss her, just to see what that particular smile tastes like. 

“You look really good,” Monique says, eyes darkening. “Though, I think you always look good, so.”

Shay turns red. “Thanks. You too. The glasses are…”

“Dorky?”

“Adorable,” Shay says. 

Monique laughs, then sobers slightly. “Hey, uhm, I also just wanted to check in, about… I mean, Zoya told me what happened in class, obviously, and wanted to see if you were okay?”

Shay sighs. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. Though a bunch of Kittens did like, offer me protection. I think.”

Monique groans. “They tried it with me but surprisingly Kelsey stopped them.”

“Her GSA training?”

“Probably,” Monique grins. 

“What about you? Are you okay?”

Monique shrugs uncomfortably. “I’m kind of… used to people staring at me, you know, with my hijab and all… but this is…”

“Different?”

“Yeah,” Monique sighs. “This one other Muslim girl I know started saying that everything I do is haram and all this wild shit.”

Shay frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“I just keep reminding myself that these people don't really matter,” Monique says. “My friends support me and my family accepts me, so…”

Shay feels a knot in her stomach. “Yeah.”

“Anyway, I better get back to it,” Monique says. 

She doesn’t move though, and Shay has the feeling that there’s something more she wants to say. The slight tension between them just makes the knot tighten even more, making it feel like it’s a little difficult to breathe. 

Though maybe it’s the pleather bodysuit.

“You and I are… okay, right?” Monique asks.

Shay’s eyes widen. “Yeah. I mean, I thought we were? Unless… you think we’re… not?”

“No, I think we’re okay,” Monique says quickly. “I just… I don’t know, if everything on Sunday was too intense or…”

“No, no, it wasn’t,” Shay says. 

“Okay, cause we left it kinda…” Monique waves her hand. “And then you didn’t… I haven’t heard from you…”

“I haven’t heard from you either!” Shay sputters. “I mean… besides the photograph…”

“So, you saw it?” Shay can swear she sees a blush spring to Monique’s cheeks. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I - well, what was I supposed to say to that?” Shay feels her own face heat up.

“Fuck,” Monique mumbles. “I knew it was fucking weird, but Sekou said it was romantic -”

“No, it was!” Shay says quickly. “It was… uhm. Both.” 

Monique groans. “I better go die now -”

Shay laughs. “No, don’t do that. I like you too much.”

Monique smiles, slow like honey. “Oh, you do, huh?”

“Yeah,” Shay says. “I do.”

“Alright,” Monique says. “Maybe I’ll stick around a while.”

“Maybe you should,” Shay says playfully.

“But not only for you,” Monique says, tilting her head.

“No?”

“No, cause we got that whole protest to organize and everything,” Monique says. 

“True,” Shay says. 

“And then there’s our date,” Monique says.

Shay’s smile curls up. “Our date?”

“Yeah,” Monique says. “Our date on…?”

Shay grins at her. “Tonight?

“Oh, tonight?” Monique looks ecstatic for a moment, and then groans. “Ugh, I can’t. I’m taking my little sister and some of the cousins trick or treating.”

“Oh,” Shay says. “Uhm, maybe -”

“Unless… you wanna come with us?” Monique asks.

Her voice sounds slightly wary but mostly hopeful.

“I - uhm, would that be okay?” Shay asks.

Monique smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be cool.”

“Alright, cool.”

“Cool,” Monique says. “Uhm - Anyway, I better go.”

“Yeah,” Shay says. “Me too.”

Monique winks at her and turns to leave. Right as she does though, Shay acts on impulse. She reaches out for her hand, stopping her. Monique half-turns, tilting her head cutely. Shay takes a sharp inhale and then leans in quickly, pressing her lips again Monique’s. Her Chapstick tastes like grapefruit, Shay thinks. When she pulls back, Monique has the largest smile on her face that she’s ever seen. 

+++

**Thursday, October 31, 3:16 PM  
**

_New message from: **Dingleberries**_

_[Tyler]_

Kelsey Russell just ran up to me and gave me a hug and thanked me for my service

Then Zoya Ali smirked and said 

"Yeah he's braver than any U.S. Marine"

Shay what the fuck 

Welcome to the club

_[Tyler]_

If she does that to me again I'm dropping out of the band

_[Mar]_

At least it's for a good cause

Like an actual good cause

Not like that bullshit about homecoming

Okay I thought we agreed the homecoming stuff wasn't all bullshit

_[Tyler]_

I think you have rose-colored glasses from having a girlfriend

I'm gonna kick you in the nuts next time I see you 

+++

**Thursday, October 31, 8:01 PM**

“Trick or treat!”

Shay hangs back with Monique, watching the crew of nine-year olds scream at the umpteenth house in their neighborhood. The man at the door, dressed as a scarecrow, smiles down at the children while giving them full-sized candy bars. This elicits a chorus of excited squeals.

“Mo they’re the big bars!” Monique’s little sister, Nichelle, calls back.

She’s dressed as some kind of astronaut princess, Shay thinks. She has on an entire spacesuit with a tiara glued to the top and a pink tutu around her waist. 

“Yeah, I can see,” Monique answers. 

Shay snickers; Monique pokes her in the ribs.

“Hey, don’t laugh,” Monique says. “With any luck, we’ll be getting halfa that haul.”

“Luck?”

“Yeah,” Monique grins. “That, or my grandparents’ splitting all that up evenly.”

The kids all yell thank yous before turning and marching back towards Shay and Monique, ready to go to another house. Shay steps aside as Nichelle, three more of Monique’s cousins, and four of their friends bump into each other going down the walkway and towards the next house. Shay and Monique dutifully follow them, Monique constantly doing a headcount to make sure she has all eight of the kids. They’re not the only teenagers out; Shay spots a legion of older siblings, ushering around trick or treaters. At every house, she and Monique hang back slightly, talking and watching the kids. 

“You do this every year?” Shay asks.

Monique nods. “Since I was thirteen. And Asia and some of my other cousins used to come with me before that. My mom tries to come along when she can, but work is hectic. You know.”

“Yeah,” Shay says. “Some of the church ladies used to like, tell people not to celebrate Halloween cause it was for the devil, but my mom never actually listened to that. Surprisingly.”

“It’s the same thing with us,” Monique says. “I mean - well my family’s I guess not as strict with a lot of stuff, so maybe it’s not surprising, but Halloween was never a big issue.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you and your mom have any traditions?” Monique asks.

Shay frowns thoughtfully. “Not really. We used to watch the Harry Potter movies on television when I was little, though. You know, those marathons on ABC Family?”

Monique laughs. “Yeah, definitely.”

“But I don’t know, the older I get, the less…” Shay feels her throat close up a little. “The less we do together.”

They reach the end of the block, and Monique pauses to tell the kids to hold hands before they cross the street. There’s a bit of protesting, but all Monique has to do is give them a stern glare before the grumbling stops. Shay smiles slightly as they wait for the light to change.

“Why is that?” Monique asks. “I mean, I can guess, but…”

Shay shrugs, but not carelessly. “I think part of it is because… you know of her not knowing I’m gay. But I guess it’s also just… like the older I got, the more I felt like… like I’m an adult in the house, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“With my mom being sick and my dad being away so often, a lot of her care was on me,” Shay says. “And like… with that, I felt like I couldn’t… share things with her. Like it was too dumb, or she was too tired or whatever.”

The traffic light turns red, and they slowly go across the street, with the bunches of other kids and their chaperones. There’s a slight chill in the air, and Shay feels grateful that she has her heavy coat on over the leather outfit. That, and some of these dads keep looking a little too closely at her. She glares at one who should be helping his child tie their shoelace instead of looking at her legs. 

“That’s really rough,” Monique says. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” Shay says. “I mean… I don’t know. It’s not, but I don’t know what to do. I feel like she likes it this way, you know? Otherwise, wouldn’t she try harder?”

Monique's quiet for a moment. “Maybe she feels the same way. Or she doesn’t know how to talk to you. It sucks that you have to be the grown up sometimes but… I don’t know. Maybe she also is trying, in her own way. And… like no offense, but you’re not really… open to it?”

Shay gives her a look. “What’re you trying to say?”

“Look, all I’m saying is that sometimes people be telling you things and you don’t understand how to hear them,” Monique says.

Shay huffs. “I guess.”

“I guess,” Monique teases back. 

Shay smiles. “Okay, but what about you? You and your mom always get along?”

Monique laughs. “Damn, no. She’s way too overprotective sometimes. Like she’s afraid that if she lets me breathe on my own, I’ll…”

She suddenly trails off, her breath hitching like she’s just remembered that there’s something she’s not supposed to say. Shay doesn’t know if she should as her to continue or change the subject. They remain quiet as they go down to another house, one with fake cobwebs and giant tombstones all over the front yard. The kids in front of them squeal in horrified delight, racing up the pathway to the front door. 

Monique takes a slow inhale. “She used to be more relaxed with it, but…”

“The thing in the spring,” Shay guesses.

Monique glances down and away. “Yeah. When I…”

“Trick or treat!”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Shay tells her. “I know.” 

“No, I do want to tell you, but it’s just...” Monique sighs. “It’s easier to talk about now then it was in the summer or whatever. But uhm, last spring, like I told you, when things were really bad, and I tried to…”

Shay remains quiet, looking at the shadows dance across Monique’s face. The kids start to come back down the path towards them, and Monique folds her lips together. An encouraging smile spreads across her face as Nichelle laughs, tugging on Monique’s hand to go towards the next house. She and Shay stay silent as they walk on, the gaggle of kids peering in their plastic pumpkins and guessing what candy the next house will give them.

“We got real lucky this year, Momo,” Nichelle says with a wide grin. “Not one apple or raisin box or any of that stuff.”

“Yeah, real lucky when all your teeth rot and fall out like Uncle Joe if you eat too much candy though,” Monique says with a gentle smile.

Nichelle shakes her head rapidly. “Nuh uh, not gonna happen. I floss every night.”

“Cause I make you!”

Nichelle turns to Shay. “Nuh uh. I do it all on my own.”

Shay smiles at her. “I bet.”

Nichelle gives Monique an _I told you so_ kind of look, before running to catch up with her cousins and friends. Shay and Monique trail after them, going towards the next house.

“She’s really cute,” Shay says, looking after her.

“Yeah, when she’s on her best behavior,” Monique says fondly, just a hint of sadness laced through her voice.

“Hey,” Shay says softly, glancing at Monique, “You really… we can talk about something else.”

Monique nods. “Yeah, but I need to just rip off the Band-Aid.”

“Okay.”

“Anyway,” she says, “Last spring, after I… well, you know, and I was hospitalized, I thought… after I got diagnosed, I thought things would get better, but they only got worse.” 

She trails off again but looks over at Shay. Her eyes dance across her face, like she’s asking her to put the points together herself. But Shay doesn’t know what picture she’s trying to paint to help her.

“I was out of school for a few weeks, you know,” Monique says. “And when I got back, the whole administration was so fucking… they didn’t even try to help me get back on track, didn’t even try to understand. They suggested that I retake my entire junior year. Like, what? The entire year? For missing less than a month of school?”

“Fuck,” Shay says. 

“Yeah, and my mom, she tried her best, you know? But they weren't having it,” Monique says. “They said it wasn’t only about my grade, but emotional maturity. As if - like what the fuck? I needed to be held back cause somehow, having depression meant I wasn’t emotionally ready for senior year? Fuck off.”

She says this last bit a little too loud, bashfully glancing at the kids. They’re too busy getting candy from the next house to notice, though. 

Monique sighs, as if trying to calm down. “Anyway, I was so pissed because of that, I just went off, you know? On the principle, on my teachers. And they like… you know, instead of seeing that I was just mad, or whatever, they decided I was…”

“Violent?” Shay asks.

“Yeah,” Monique says. “I didn’t hit anyone or anything, but they fucking… they just decided to expel me anyway.”

Shay’s eyebrows fly up. “For being angry? At them being - being stupid?”

Monique nods. “Yeah. And my mom... she was so upset. Like everything she worked for just… gone.”

“But it wasn’t your fault,” Shay says.

“I know, and she said she knew that too,” Monique says. “But… since then, I don’t know. Things have changed a little between us.”

“I’m sorry,” Shay says. “Really.”

“Yeah,” Monique says. “Me too.”

Shay pauses for a minute. “But - so that’s why you came to Bouldin?”

Monique gives a small smile. “Yeah. It was wild. Zoya and Sekou’s dad is… I don’t know if you know this, but he’s actually a lawyer. And he started going off about like, misogynoir and school push-out or whatever… wanted to sue Central, actually.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah, but anyway, he and their mom and my mom came to Bouldin and talked to the principle like, two weeks after all that shit happened,” Monique says. “And somehow, they got the school to accept me for senior year. I just had to do summer school, a bit of homeschooling stuff.”

“Damn,” Shay says. “Well… I mean is it too corny to say I’m glad you ended up at Bouldin anyway?”

Monique huffs out a laugh. “Yes. But I am, too.”

Shay smiles, and then jokes, “Damn, I feel like every time we hang out, we just get mad serious.”

Monique laughs. “Teenaged angst on crack.”

“Sounds like a good song title,” Shay says.

“Hah! When you use it, make sure you credit me in the album acknowledgements.”

+++

**Friday, November 1, 3:04 PM **

_New message from: **Kelsey Russell **_

Hi everyone!

This is just a *reminder* that we'll be having our meeting tonight at Grace Olsen's house.

5:30 PM sharp! 

If you care about our school environment and want to make a change, I'll see you there!

+++

**Friday, November 1, 5:37 PM**

Shay sits on a lumpy couch, sandwiched between Marlon and Tyler, who’s perched on one of the sofa arms. Even though Grace’s living room is pretty big, there’s more people gathered around the space that Shay would’ve thought, including some of the people from her A.P. Gov class who had actively laughed when everything went down. As her eyes pass over them, some of them avert their gazes, and Shay wonders if it’s just guilt that’s brought them here. She doesn’t know how to sit with that, or how she feels about it. But as she watches Grace and Megan sitting on the floor, reading over some piece of paper, she sighs. 

Monique catches her eye, halfway across the room. She winks and Shay feels her face warming up. She smiles back broadly at her, unable to do anything else. 

“You sure you’re okay, with…” Tyler trails off. 

Shay blinks up at him, not sure of what he’s asking at first. When Marlon starts nodding though, understanding dawns on Shay.

“We actually managed to nod at each other in the hallway yesterday,” Marlon says wryly.

“Wow, big steps,” Tyler jokes.

“No, but… I mean, it’s awkward,” Marlon says. “It’ll always be awkward, I think. But… we both just gotta work through it.”

“And it’ll get easier with time,” Shay says. “Like… it’s corny but, you know, possible.”

Zoya starts speaking, and the room falls silent in her presence.

“Okay, so we’ve come up with an idea of this protest,” she says. “And of course, everyone should feel free to voice their own opinions too, but we think this is a really great idea. First, we want to organize a walk-out. Once we get outside of the school, we’ll basically have a photography exhibit put up. The photos will be of everyone holding up a quote of something inappropriate they’ve heard a teacher or admin say in school, something that’s contributed to how hostile and fucked up these adults have been. We’ll gather around the photos in a silent protest.”

“Mostly silent,” Tyler corrects her.

Zoya rolls her eyes. “Right, mostly silent. Clout from Grandma’s Closet has agreed to write a protest song for the event.” 

Shay gets a little thrill as she hears Zoya say that, she can’t lie. 

“That’s it?” someone calls out.

Zoya smirks. “No. Grace, want to take this one?”

Grace smiles up at her. “Nik, Poonam and I are completely redesigning this month’s edition of the Bouldin Beat to make it all about the protest. The cover story will be about interviewing students on how the school is actually super unsafe and ending it with a list of demands for the administration in terms of how they’ll change things up.” 

Nik jumps in. “Right, so that’ll be about suggestions for trainings and stuff that have worked at other schools, you know, in order to really change the climate.”

“And if we don’t see tangible changes being made,” Grace says, “Then we’ll go on strike.”

“Go on strike… from school?” someone asks incredulously. 

“If it gets to that,” Grace says. “Yeah.”

“But it won’t get to that, if we make a big enough impact now,” Zoya says. “Chances are we won’t have the whole school, obviously. But we need enough of us to make it count. That’s why planning is so crucial. It has to be a surprise. We absolutely don’t want to spread this on social media, and we have to be careful about talking about it in person.”

A girl who Shay thinks is named Peyton, speaks up. “Look guys, I agree that the school culture is fucked up, but like, is all of this really warranted? It’s not that bad, is it? At least we don’t have metal detectors or anything.”

Zoya stares straight at her and says, “someone wrote ‘terrorist’ on my locker last year and nothing happened.”

The room goes quiet.

“There was no internal investigation,” Zoya says. “But they did was drag me into a meeting with the superintendent and ask if I did anything to warrant someone doing that. If I made some kind of joke or something that would make someone worried enough to vandalize my locker. And then afterwards all they could offer me was a new locker.” 

Peyton winces. “I mean… maybe the school just didn’t know what to do?”

Jo speaks up. “But that’s exactly the problem. They’re supposed to be educating us, and yet they’re super ignorant, or worse, like, actually hateful when stuff like this happens.”

“Look, none of us here are perfect,” Megan says, wincing. “We’ve all messed up and we should all own up to that. But the fact is, that these teachers and stuff don’t do that. And they either actively cheer on students who do horrible things, or they just let it slide. And that’s not okay.” 

“Okay, but doing a student walk-out?” Someone else asks. “What if we get suspended? Won’t that go on our permanent record or something?” 

Zoya pauses for a moment. “And so, what if it does?” 

“I already got in early decision,” is the answering response. “I’m sorry, but I can’t jeopardize that.”

“No one is forcing anyone to do this.” Zoya says. “If you’re not comfortable doing this, then you can leave.”

“Besides,” Kelsey speaks up. “It’s not like anyone’s exposing your Tik Tok where you’re saying some kind of racial slur. You’re protesting for your rights. Colleges will understand that.”

“Yeah, look at Malala,” Jo says. “She totally got into Oxford for her activism.”

“But that brings up an important point,” Grace says quickly. “Like Zoya said, if you’re uncomfortable with any of this, it’s okay. You can go.”

Megan says, “all of us have to be one hundred percent in this and back each other up. Like, it’s not only walking out but having your photo very visible outside of school.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” someone asks. “Why not just the walk-out?”

“The idea is that, hopefully, teachers and admin will follow us out and then they’ll have to be faced with their own words, staring back at them,” Jo says. “And then they’ll know for real what this is about.” 

“But won’t the photos like… near the road? Where anyone driving by can see?” 

Kelsey nods. “Yeah. But don’t worry, I’m in the middle of research on a permit application -” 

Peyton shakes her head. “Girl, I don’t think that’s what people are worrying about.”

Marlon pipes in, “besides, a permit to protest? Isn’t that the opposite of protesting?” 

Kelsey shakes her head. “We have the right to free speech, but it also comes with a lot of red tape -” 

“That seems counterintuitive,” Marlon says.

Jo takes a deep breath. “Maybe so, but we have to do this right, and that means legally. I doubt anything will happen, but if we don’t get the right permission, that will give the school the right to call the cops on us. And… some of us are more at risk of being harmed by cops than the rest of you.”

Marlon turns pink, mumbling an apology. An awkward silence floats through the room. She spots Monique reaching over to squeeze Jo’s knee reassuringly.

“But it won’t come to that,” Grace says. “Zoya’s dad has worked with lawyers in the ACLU, and my older cousin and some of her friends who are activists have done things like this before in college. All of them, they’re gonna hold protest trainings with us. Like, what to do, how to set everything up. We’ll be prepared.”

Someone asks, “Okay, but can we get back to the photograph thing? I mean, I wouldn’t mind it if it were in the Bouldin Beat or something but… in the street?” 

A murmur goes through the room, some in agreement and some in opposition. Shay feels her heart throb anxiously. By now, everyone either knows or has assumed she’s gay, so it’s… maybe not a big thing. But her face plastered on the side of the road, proclaiming that she’s gay, where anyone can just pass by? Where a church lady can see and tell her mother? When… when she’s just not ready? The issue isn't about her not being proud of who she is; the issue is about her scaring losing her parents because of what they know. 

Megan starts to say something, but Shay can only hear a small droning noise in her ears. Marlon leans in, his slightly distorted face looking concerned. She thinks he asks her if she’s okay, and she mumbles something about going to use the bathroom. 

Shay gets up and maneuvers around the bodies on the floor into the hallway, before she realizes she doesn’t actually know where the bathroom is. She turns around in the hallway, peeking into the half-open doors until she sees a toilet. Going inside, she closes the door gently before leaning her back against it. She can see her reflection out of the corner of her eyes; the way her face is flushed, and her chest is heaving with heavy breaths. She leans her head back slightly against the wood, closing her eyes for just a moment.

A knock startles her.

“Just a second,” she calls back out.

The doorknob rattles anyway, and Shay backs up into the bathroom to avoid being smacked with the door. She frowns as it opens, surprised to see Zoya on the other side of it. Zoya raises one eyebrow at her before crowding into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her.

“Hello?” Shay throws her hands out. “Do you always interrupt people when they’re peeing?”

“Girls pee together all the time,” Zoya shrugs her off. “Besides, you weren’t peeing. You were freaking out.” 

“I -”

“You put on a good poker face, but I can see right through those,” Zoya says. “Years of perfecting my own.”

Shay looks at her for a moment, before sighing and moving to sit on the rim of the tub. Zoya follows her, sitting down on the lid of the toilet bowl. This close, Shay can see the all of these new things that she’s never noticed before. The subtle shading of Zoya’s eyeshadow, the hole in the knee of her pants, even a few pins holding her hijab in place. When she meets Zoya’s eyes, she’s already staring back at her intently. 

“Look, I get it,” Zoya says. “Being so visible is really scary, and no one is going to look down on you if you don’t want to participate.”

Shay says. “I’m not trying to compare shit here, but I don’t know that you do get it. You… I mean, it must suck, going around everywhere and people making assumptions about you just because of what you wear, of who you are. But you get to go home and be accepted. If I do this, I don’t… I might not have a home to go back to.”

Zoya says, “How do you know that’s what gonna happen?”

Shay turns her face. “I just know. My parents aren’t like Monique’s family.” 

Zoya stays quiet for a moment. “No offense, but… don’t you think they already know a bit? I mean… they’re your parents, right? And… girl, just look at how you dress.”

Shay glances down at her button-up shirt and straight-legged jeans that she borrowed from Marlon. “No offense taken.”

“So, I mean… maybe they’ve already accepted who you are, and are just waiting for you to say something,” Zoya says.

Shay shakes her head. “That’s just not how it is, Zoya. I already know.”

“But how?”

“I just do,” Shay says. “Just like I know for the rest of my life, no matter how I look or how out I am, I’m always going to have to decide between whether I can trust someone with my sexuality or if I have to pretend like I’m straight. For my own safety, for my own sake.”

Zoya doesn't say anything for a moment.

“I mean, don’t you ever feel that way?” Shay asks uncertainly. “Don’t you ever… wonder if it just, at least in some places, would just be easier to not wear your hijab?”

Zoya meets her gaze. “Of course I do. Girl, we live in Texas."

"See?"

"And... of course, I think it might be easier, that I might be safer, that I might not be a target. And it’s hard, it’s always hard. But… my faith is stronger than my fear. It has to be.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever have that kind of faith,” Shay admits on a sigh. “Fuck. What a pair we make. The lesbian and the Muslim.”

“The Black lesbian and the Black Muslim.” Zoya snorts. “Like some kind of diversity quota that needed to be hit on a primetime television show.” 

Shay huffs. “Seriously.”

They’re quiet for a moment, the low hum of the meeting coming through the bottom of the door. 

“But Shay, you know…” Zoya’s eyes glint with sympathy. “You don’t have to do something that has to do with all of your identities either, if you don’t want. I’m sure you’ve heard enough fucked up things about being a Black woman without anyone saying anything about you being gay. I mean, we’re all sitting at the crossroads of one thing or another, right?”

Shay hesitates. “Yeah, but could you talk about being Black without talking about being Muslim? Without talking about being a woman? Would that be… the truth?”

Zoya exhales slowly. “I guess not.”

“I don’t know if I can, either.”

“I guess you have a choice to make, then,” Zoya says softly. 

They sit in silence for a few moments as Shay stares down at her hands. She thinks about everything that’s happened, not only over the last few weeks, but over the past few years. How tired she’s been of hiding in her own home, how distant she’s felt from her parents, how she’s been able to finally open up and talk to everyone else in her life. How much she wishes she could be her full self around the two people who are supposed to love her unconditionally, and yet has this huge fear in her heart that there are, in fact, too many strings attached. She knows it's not wrong to chose safety over her truth, and it's something that she's come to realize in the past few weeks. It's different for everyone, and maybe that's what it has to be for her, too. There's no shame in that.

And yet... 

She feels Zoya reach over, slowly placing her hand on top of Shay’s. Rather than looking up, Shay swallows down the knot in her throat, and grips Shay’s hand tightly. It’s comforting and warm, and Shay can’t help but marvel at how she’s ended up here. But somehow, it’s exactly what she needs, because she has an answer.

“I’m in,” she says softly.

Zoya squeezes her hand in response.

+++

**Saturday, November 2, 10:23 AM **

_So tired, tired of all this drama_

_You go your way, I go my way (no more, no more)_

_I want to be free_

_Broken heart again_

_Another lesson learned_

_Better know your friends_

_Or else you will get burnt_

_Gotta count on me_

_Cause I can guarantee that I'll be fine_

Shay sits on her couch, wringing her sweaty hands together. Her parents had gone out for an “early bird” walk, something that she knows her dad has been dragging her mom around to do since she got the all-clear from the hospital. Her pulse hammers like a jackrabbit, and the queasy feeling in her stomach only gets more intense as she hears the front door unlock. She takes a shuddering breath in, glancing at the overly stuffed backpack that she’s left just by the front door. It’s everything that she thought she’d need, if...

_No more pain (no more pain)_

_No more pain (no more pain)_

_No drama (no more drama in my life)_

_No one's gonna make me hurt again_

Her parents come through the door, both of them smiling and slightly sweaty. Her mom mutters something too low for Shay to hear, but it makes her dad grin devilishly in return. Shay tried to clear her throat but can only manage a small whimper.

“Shay?” her mom glances towards her as her dad closes and locks the front door. 

“You’re up early,” her dad comments, surprised.

“Oh, I thought that was Tyler’s car outside,” her mom says. “Y’all have band practice?”

“No,” Shay says when he manages to find her voice.

“Oh, well, don’t let him just bake out there in that car,” her mom says absent-mindedly. “Tell that boy to come in.”

Shay’s anxiety spikes as they keep moving around the living room, getting comfortable, with seemingly no clue as to how nervous she is. She sits there, folded into the small space that she can be, just watching them go about their business. Something inside of her cracks, and she’s sure it’s her heart. It’s for all the times just like this, where she’s wanted to scream and yell and make them see her, but they’ve just kept going on, dealing with their own stuff. And it’s not fair, she knows she’s not being completely fair; but for once, she wants them to just look at her and know.

Know her.

“Can…” her voice is so low, she barely hears it herself. “Can I talk to you guys?”

Her parents pause. Her mom, about to turn down the corner to the bedroom, holds onto the corner of the wall and peers back out at her. Her dad comes over towards Shay, sitting down on the loveseat across from the couch. He begins unlacing his sneakers, of all fucking things. Shay looks from her mom to him, the way they both seem to think that this is just some casual conversation, something that will be over and done within a few moments.

Maybe it will be, she thinks. 

“Can you…” Shay gestures to the love seat. “Ma? Can you come sit down?”

She catches the concerned look her parents give each other, before her mother comes over to sit next to her dad. He slowly straightens up, leaving his sneakers on but unlaced. Shay stares at them for a moment, the way they’re just dangling onto the floor.

“Is everything okay Shay?” her mother asks.

“Yeah,” her dad says jokingly, “you’re not pregnant or anything, are you?”

He chuckles to himself; in any other situation, Shay might be laughing too. But she just sits on the couch, staring at his mouth and Adam’s apple and teeth, unable to form any words. She can feel her eyes start to well up with tears, the salt of them burning as she tries to blink them away. The knot in her throat just keeps growing bigger as time passes, blocking anything that she had practiced all night. 

Her dad’s laughter trails off and the silence stretches between them. 

“Shay?” he asks, concern growing on his face.

“I have to…” Shay’s voice is wet. “I need to…”

She can’t.

She feels her mother’s eyes on her but can’t bring herself to meet her gaze. After a few moments, she hears her mother shifting with the effort to get up. She moves over next to Shay, sitting so that their thighs are pressed against one another. Gently, she pulls Shay’s hand into her lap, holding onto it tightly. Shay blinks down at their two brown hands. It reminds her of being a kid again, being soothed because she’s bored of the long church services, her mother promising her it’ll be all over soon with every gently squeeze. 

Shay turns away, the tears threatening to fall all too quickly now. She shifts, trying to tug her hand out of her mother’s grasp.

Her mother says softly, “‘Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.’”

Shay looks up, her tears finally spilling over and racing down her cheeks. She tries to smile but can’t manage it, her mouth wobbling with every muscle she tries to command. Her mouth opens, but what comes out surprises her. 

“When we speak, we are afraid our words will not be heard nor welcomed, but when we are silent, we are still afraid,” she recites on a choked sob, “So it is better… so it is better to… to speak… remembering… we were never meant to survive.” 

“Shay?”

Just beyond her mother, Shay thinks she sees her father begin to get up. She can barely see him at this point, her eyesight completely distorted by the tears in her eyes. She feels her mother coming closer to her, gripping onto her hand so tightly that it begins to ache. 

“I know, baby,” her mother whispers, voice cracking. “I know. And you don’t have to be afraid. You never have to be afraid to be yourself.”

“Shay?” her dad’s voice is flooded with concern, closer than before. “Shay? What’s going on?”

“It’s okay,” her mother says. “It’s okay.”

Shay closes her eyes, and the truth comes out.

“I’m a lesbian,” she says on a quiet sob. “I’ve known for a long time and - and I was - I thought -”

Suddenly, her mother pulls her close, wrapping her arms around her and squeezing her tightly. Shay belatedly hears her father falling to his knees in front of her, and then his arms are around the two of them, too. Shay presses her face into her mother’s neck and openly weeps, trying to get her arms around both of her parents. She holds onto them too tightly, her fingernails digging into their skin, afraid, so, so fucking afraid, that everything will come crashing down as soon as they let go. Yet all too soon, they begin to pull away; Shay can only stare down at her lap. 

“Don’t hate me,” she whispers. “Please.” 

When she looks up, she realizes that her father is crying too. “Oh, Shay. Oh, honey. We could never hate you. We love you.”

“We’re so proud of you,” her mother says. “You’re so, so brave, braver than I could ever hope for in my little girl.”

Nothing could shock her more than this.

“You - you do?”

Her mother lifts a hand up, wiping away the tears from her cheeks. “Shayla Krystal. How could I think otherwise?”

“Well, because…” Shay glances from her mother to her father and back again. “Because… God…”

“God loves you exactly as you are, because you are made in His image,” her mother says. “And God don’t do ugly, so nothing about you can be ugly or wrong either.”

Shay tries to laugh, but mostly ends up snorting a bunch of snot back up her nose. “Y’all… do know what ‘lesbian’ means, right?”

Her mother shoots her an unamused look as her father produces a cloth handkerchief from somewhere in his pants pocket. Shay takes it from him with a watery smile before blowing her nose into it. Once she’s done, she grips it tightly in her lap, not even caring about how gross and soggy it is now. Her mother leans in, rubbing her back with one hand. They stay like that for a long moment, until Shay feels like she can breathe again, for the first time in who knows how long. 

“It’s just… do you know how scared I was to tell you?” Shay says. “How… how I thought…”

“I’m sorry for that,” Shay’s mother says quietly. “I’m sorry that’s the lesson you learned from us.”

“It’s just…” Shay takes a deep breath in. “A lot of people would say that God hates me. For who I am.”

“A lot of people are idiots,” her father says. “And it doesn’t matter what they think when they’re just spewing hate from their mouths instead of living His word.”

Shay manages a smile at that.

“And, you know,” her mother clears her throat. “A lot of… people… think that Jesus himself was gay too.”

Shay almost snaps her neck to look at her. “Who are you, and what did you do with my mother?”

“Oh hush,” her mom says. “I’m just saying.”

Her dad says thoughtfully, “You know, his crew did mostly consist of twelve men. There had to have been something there, if you know what I’m saying.”

Shay gurgles. Her dad squeezes her knee. 

“Now. Why don’t you go out and invite Tyler in for some brunch?” Her mother says. “I’m sure that boy is hungry.”

“And I can just grab that and put it back in your room,” her dad says, gesturing towards her backpack. “For you to unpack later.”

Shay stays sitting for a few moments, watching in half disbelief as her parents get up and begin to bustle around the apartment. Her father picks up her bag and heads down the hall. Her mother goes right for the stereo, plugging her phone in and scrolling through her music. She smiles to herself as she selects a song; when the opening strains float through the room, Shay feels her body finally relax. She uncurls herself like a flower in bloom, feeling lighter than she ever has. She rubs a hand across her face, gathering the last of the tears, before moving towards the door. 

She pauses on her way there, before scurrying over to her mother and throwing her arms around her once more. Her mother turns in her grasp, running her hand over Shay’s back and humming along to the music.

“I love you, baby,” her mother says. “Nothing will ever stop that.”

“I love you too,” Shay whispers.

They stay like that for a long moment, swaying to the music. 

_Listen baby, ain't no mountain high_

_Ain't no valley low, ain't no river wide enough baby_

_If you need me call me no matter where you are_

_No matter how far don't worry baby_

_Just call my name I'll be there in a hurry_

_You don't have to worry_

'_Cause baby there ain't no mountain high enough_

_Ain't no valley low enough_

_Ain't no river wide enough_

_To keep me from getting to you babe_

+++


	8. Sick and Tired (of Being Sick and Tired)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder for [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4XWEfhgjaeWfyFsaLCuZwi)! 
> 
> Also - I'm sorry I'm posting this so late and made myself out to be a liar from two chapters ago. Between work and school I've been too tired to edit and I just didn't get the work done that I wanted to for this. Thank you for (hopefully) understanding! Minor grammar edits might be made during this week. 
> 
> Also, also - there's nothing explicit, but there is some talk of suicidal ideation towards the end of the chapter. Be gentle with yourselves when reading!

+++

**Sunday, November 3, 8:55 AM**

_ The Book of Revelations _

_ Chapter 7: Verses 16 and 17 (Yes sir) _

_ They shall hunger no more _

_ Neither shall they thirst anymore (Preach preacher!) _

_ And God shall wipe away (Yes sir) _

_ Every tear from the eye (Yes sir) _

_ Get ready for the revolution _

_ (Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on) _

_ Whoaaaa-o-o-oooooo-ohhhhh _

_ Do you want a revolution? _

_ Whoop Whoop! _

_ I said do you want a Revolution? _

_ Whoop Whoop _

_ Whoaaaaa-o-o-Whoaaaa-ohhh-ohhh _

_ Do you want a revolution? _

_ Whoop Whoop _

_ Come on, do you want a revolution? _

_ Whoop Whoop! _

By the time her mom starts blasting her music, Shay is already up and lacing up her Tims. She yawns, bumping into the hallway wall as she moves into the living room. She has slightly dry eyes from all the crying the day before, but all she feels is… good. And for now, she’s gonna let herself just feel that. Feel like herself. 

“Two days in a row?” Her mom says, eyes going up in surprise. “You’re not… Lord Almighty, you’re not coming to church with your father and me?”

She’s sitting on the couch, watching the news on mute as to not disturb the stereo. She has a cup of coffee in one hand a donut in the other, smiling at her kindly. Shay yawns at her in response.

“I have a project for school,” she says.

“This early?”

“It’s… well it’s less for school and more about school,” Shay says. “It’s a protest.”

“A protest?” 

She nods, jingling her keys in one hand. “Well… we’re planning a student walk-out. Cause… some really messed up things have been said at our school, like, racist and homophobic things and… we’re tired of it. It's kinda a long story, and I promise I'll tell you, but I gotta go.”

“A walk-out?” her mother raises her eyebrows, impressed. “Shay, that’s...”

“Yeah?”

“That’s wonderful,” her mother says. “You know, you come from a long like of student activists.”

Shay’s mouth drops down. “Really?”

Her mother gives her a look. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Shay’s phone goes off, and she glances at it to see Marlon asking her where she is.

“First of all, rude that I’ve never heard this before,” Shay says. “But also - can we talk later? I can’t be late. Marlon’s waiting for me.” 

“Oh, no, don’t let me keep you,” her mom says. “But - you know, it’s good to see you going out, telling us things…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shay says, a silly smile creeping on her face.

“And… you know, your father did tell me that you had a small chat about colleges…”

Shay’s good mood diminishes just for a moment. “Ma -”

“No, I know, you have to go,” she says. “But I’d like for us to talk about it. Okay? I… never want to hold you back, Shay. Never.”

“You don’t,” Shay says quickly.

Her mother sighs. “I have a feeling I do it more often than you’d ever admit. But, that… what’s her name? Mrs. Mendoza, she said that the applications are due soon, so, sooner than later, Shay?”

Shay takes a steadying breath. “Okay. Soon.”

“Soon,” Her mom says like a promise. “And Shay - however I can help with this walk-out, I’m there.” 

_ I know I can _

_ Be what I wanna be _

_ If I work hard at it _

_ I'll be where I wanna be _

_ I know I can (I know I can) _

_ Be what I wanna be (be what I wanna be) _

_ If I work hard at it (If I work hard it) _

_ I'll be where I wanna be (I'll be where I wanna be) _

When Shay, Tyler and Marlon make it to Monique’s, Jo is the one who answers the door, a smidge of blue permanent marker on her cheek. She grins at them, backing up so that the trio can come into the house.

“Hey,” Shay says as she steps inside.

“Hey,” Jo says. “So we have a sign making station in the living room and then we’re doing photos in the dining room. Monique’s grandparents also made so much food, so if you haven’t had breakfast yet… or if you have honestly, you should go to the kitchen first.”

“Cool,” Shay says.

“Thanks,” Tyler adds.

Jo winks at him. “Anything for you, Papí.”

Instead of Tyler shifting uncomfortably or muttering under his breath, he smiles back at her.

“Gracias mamacita,” he says over his shoulder.

Shay almost walks into a wall; Marlon trips over nothing.

Tyler simply sweeps past them into the kitchen, leaving Jo laughing as she wanders back into the living room. Marlon and Shay share a bewildered look before chasing Tyler into the kitchen.

“What… was that?” Shay asks.

Tyler smirks. “We have Spanish Lit together. She’s actually pretty cool.”

“Cool,” Marlon repeats.

“Yeah. And knows her shit. She’s like, saving my ass with her obsession with Isabel Allende.” 

“Are you… fucking with us?” Shay squints.

Tyler levels a stare at her. “I am capable of having girl friends besides you.”

Marlon mutters, “first Grace, now Jo. Who’s next, Kelsey?”

“Megan?” Shay says with a teasing smile.

Tyler points a finger at them. “I have hidden depths.”

”Sure you do,” Marlon jokes.

They turn into the kitchen, which is completely packed. Not only is it full of people from her school piling on their plates high, Asia and her and Monique’s grandparents, George and Annie, are expertly moving around the kitchen, from the stove to the fridge to the toaster to the sink and back again. The entire room smells like grits, turkey bacon, eggs, and catfish and it makes Shay’s stomach growl loudly. George and Annie pause to kiss each other, before going back to their tasks. 

“Good morning,” Shay says. 

Everyone turns to say good morning back; Shay pauses to do the introductions, watching as Asia expertly flips the catfish over. Tyler and Marlon go to grab some plates, already piling the food on. Tyler already has a strip of turkey bacon shoved into his mouth. Even though Shay is hungry, she has too much nervous energy to start eating anything. She’s not sure what it is, but she feels like all her cells are bumping to some rhythm only they can hear. 

Monique’s grandma comes over to Shay and gives her a warm hug. “Shay, baby, it’s good to see you.”

“You too Ms. Annie,” Shay grins. 

“Hey girl,” Asia says, then smiles slyly. “You know - I think Monique’s upstairs, trying to get all her equipment together. Maybe she needs help?”

Shay tries not to turn red; Tyler and Marlon snicker at her.

“Bring that girl a biscuit while you’re at it,” George says. “And make sure she tells you the story of how Red Lobster stole my recipe for cheddar bay -”

“For the last time, ain’t no Red Lobster stole your recipe,” Annie huffs. “You’re just mad because the one time we went there they ran outta -”

“No, I’m mad because it’s another example of those big chain restaurants pushing out the little guy, just profiting off the backs of our labor,” George says, turning to Marlon. “You know what I mean.”

Marlon nods vigorously. “It’s the same with every chain restaurant, they prey on people’s desires for family atmospheres while driving out the actual family-owned businesses with their price gouging.”

“And then the CEOs make billions while the servers get paid jack shit!” George hums in approval. 

Shay opens her mouth and then decides to say nothing, just deciding to enjoy living in the Twilight Zone for once. She snags a couple of biscuits on her way out of the kitchen, shoving one fully into her mouth as she goes. It practically melts in her mouth and she groans in delight. She takes the steps up two at a time, Monique’s door wide open.

She pauses in the doorway, even though her entire body is humming with energy. Monique is standing in front of her bed, looking towards the window with her camera in her hand. She seems to just be standing there, staring off into space. Shay makes a low noise to let her know she’s there.

Monique startles before turning, a smile spreading across her face when she sees Shay. Shay tosses a biscuit at her, which Monique manages to catch with one hand. She gently tosses her camera onto the bed. 

“Bless. I’m starving,” Monique says, shoving it into her mouth. “I’m so nervous about this whole project that I haven’t been down to -”

“I came out to my parents!” Shay practically shouts. 

A chunk of biscuit falls out of Monique’s open mouth and into the floor. Shay’s mouth, on the other hand, won’t stop moving.

“Yesterday,” Shay says. “I was so worried they would kick me out or something but they didn’t! They totally just - said they loved me and accepted me and quoted some Bible verse at me and it was - Monique it was amazing.”

Monique swallows without chewing before grinning at Shay. “That is amazing.”

“I -” Shay pauses. “Sorry, I totally interrupted you.”

“No, no that’s okay,” Monique says, taking a few steps forward. “I was just gonna complain about how nervous I am, this is so much more important!” 

Shay suddenly feels shy. “I don’t know about that. But I just - I couldn’t wait to tell you.”

Monique smiles. “I’m glad.”

"I wanted to text you but, I also like, wanted to see your face when I did it," Shay says. "I just - I don't know."

They look at each other intensely for a few seconds, and then everything seems to happen all at once. Shay moves forward at the same time Monique does, feeling like there’s too much space between them. She has biscuit crumbs still on her lips, sticking to the red lipstick she has there. Shay reaches for Monique first, grabbing onto her hand and pulling her in impossibly close. She smells shea butter and she feels the calluses on Monique’s palms. Then, all she can breathe in is Monique, their lips pressed together softly as they kiss. It’s gentle and tender before it becomes rushed and passionate; both kind of kisses like homecomings, depending on the mood. 

Monique rocks backwards and they fall onto her bed, Shay trying to shift around so she doesn’t land on Monique or her camera. Monique’s fingers scratch at her scalp and then down her back, and it’s all Shay can do to just hang on, her fingers cupping Monique’s face thumbs sliding down her cheeks. Their bodies roll to the side and Shay opens her mouth against Monique’s, tasting toothpaste and cheddar biscuits. 

They shift once more, Monique rolling onto her back, and Shay about to climb on top of her.

“Oof,” Monique says, wiggling away instead. “Hold on, hold on.” 

Shay sits up, breathing hard. Monique starts laughing, pulling her camera out from underneath her. Her lipstick is smeared across her lips and cheek, and Shay turns red, wondering how much of it is also all over her face. She glances away to look for some tissues, her eyes landing on a pill bottle on Monique’s nightstand. Monique fiddles with her camera for a moment before setting it aside, seemingly satisfied that she didn’t accidentally break it.

“Should we keep making out or -” Monique starts to say, then cuts herself off.

Shay looks back at her. “Hmm?”

Monique sighs. “Spotted my crazy pills, huh?”

Shay knows it's suppose to be a blasé comment, but she sounds so resigned that it cracks Shay’s heart.

“It’s - you know, it’s not a big deal,” Shay says. “A lot of people take meds.”

“Yeah, I know,” Monique says quickly. 

Something in her voice makes Shay pause. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Monique shakes her head no. “It’s just the same old stuff, you know. Blah blah, what if it changes my entire personality or I’m not creative anymore, blah blah.”

“Have you tried them yet?”

Monique shakes her head again. 

“Well…” Shay hesitates. “I mean, then you don’t know that how they'll work, right? And if you don’t like them, can’t you… go on another kind of dose? That what… I mean it’s not the same but when my mom’s doctor gives her new painkillers, when they don’t work she tries out another brand.”

“Yeah, I know,” Monique shifts a bit, looking uncomfortable. “Sorry, can we… like change the subject? Let’s go back to you totally telling your parents you’re a lesbian.” 

“Sorry,” Shay says immediately. “Yeah, let’s uhm, change the topic.”

Monique gives her a wary smile. “So, what Bible verse did they quote at you?”

Shay swallows down the feeling of discomfort and like she’s crossed some kind of line. She gently wipes at her lips with the back of her hand, her skin coming away with red streaks. Even though she’s trying to be more open, something about Monique’s tone tells her that this isn’t the time to push it. 

“Something about… leaving you with peace, and like, how the world isn’t peaceful, but you shouldn’t let your heart be afraid.”

Monique presses her lips together, like she’ stopping herself from laughing. “Right.”

“It was much nicer when my mom said it,” Shay admits, huffing. 

“I bet.”

“But it was nice,” Shay says. “It was so freeing that… I don’t know, I kinda feel like an asshole for being so worried.”

Monique gives her a sympathetic look. “You shouldn’t feel that way. Honestly, like I know they’re your parents are they’re supposed to love you endlessly, but… you know, it does happen. That they don’t. And that’s not your fault that you were worried.”

“I know, like, logically,” Shay says. “But my heart still thinks I’m kind of a dumbass. And that maybe…”

“Like you hyped it all up in your head because you were too scared to be accepted for who you are?” Monique asks softly.

Shay lets out a long breath. “Yeah. You know the feeling?”

She smirks. “Nope.”

Shay reaches behind her for a pillow, before smacking Monique in the face with it. Monique shrieks with laughter, wrestling it away from Shay. Shay’s small giggles die down, and she stares off at Monique’s wall. Her eyes skim over all the photos before, with a gasp of surprise, her eyes catch sight of a photograph of herself. It’s mostly of her back, but there’s a partial glimpse of the side of her face, too. She’s standing at Asia’s honey stand, but everything but her is blurry. Even Asia’s all white outfit seems distorted, like some kind of sunspot. Before Shay can comment on it though, Monique is already speaking.

“My family has always been really open,” Monique says. “I mean, you’ve met my grandparents. And they raised my mom the same way, raised my aunts and uncles like that too. Never heard a bad word against gay people my whole life. But before I came out to them… I was really nervous, too. What would they say? Would they tell me Allah would hate me now? Sometimes… the outside work just has a way of getting in. You know?”

“Yeah,” Shay says, dragging her eyes back to Monique. “I definitely know.”

“But it all turned out good,” Monique says. “Just like with your family.”

“Were they surprised?” Shay finds herself asking. “My mom acted like she already knew.”

Monique pauses. “You know… I don’t know. They didn’t act like it, but I’m sure they were. They were really chill. Actually, they were much more shocked when Asia came home talking about setting up an alter.”

Shay snorts. “For her - uhm, sorry, what’s her religion called again?”

“Santería,” Monique says. 

“Right,” Shay says. “She was talking about it, at the farmer’s market a little. I asked about her clothes. Thought it was a Muslim thing.”

Monique chuckles. “No, definitely not.”

“So your grandparents were upset that she stopped being Muslim?”

Monique hesitates. “I mean, yes and no. It’s like… you know, she went off to school in New York, started taking all these African diaspora classes, did a study abroad in Puerto Rico, and then… I don’t know, she found herself.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. It’s not like my grandparents were mad, like… you know, they believe that spirituality is personal and if something not’s working for you, you should find something that is,” Monique says. “That’s how they met, actually. My grandmother was raised Muslim, but my grandpa was a revert. You know, how a lot of them Black Power activists found Islam.”

“Oh,” Shay says. “Like Malcolm X?”

“Yeah,” Monique says.

Shay shakes her head. “It’s kind of wild, like… how you can just have so much faith in something, that the rules and everything all make sense to you, and you… you know, you want to follow it. Like Asia and her… initiation. Or you and Zoya, with your hijabs.”

Monique smiles. “I guess… for me, it’s a symbol of my faith that constantly reminds me of who I am, who I want to be. Don’t get me wrong, it’s… a lot of times it’s really hard. Like when I’m… not doing well. It makes me question a lot of things. But… yeah. I don’t know. I think believing is something that’s kinda hard to even explain.”

“Yeah,” Shay says. “I… I guess I spent so long trying to avoid my own faith cause of what everyone presented religion as that I never… thought about it in terms of who I am.”

Monique leans back. “Well, you’re welcome at the mosque anytime.”

“Thanks,” Shay says with a smile. "With the weed selling imam?"

Monique grins. "With the weed selling imam."

“I think… I don’t know. Maybe I’ll try going back to church with my mom first.”

It’s not until she says it that she realizes it’s the truth. It's been a long time she since even prayed on her own, ignoring everything about her religious upbringing because of all of the fucked up things she had heard and assumed. But she's suddenly reminded about her mother holding her hand in the pews, the voices of the choir singing, and the way she would always feel a huge swell in her chest when whenever someone would testify. It's a step that she could maybe take. Maybe. 

“Wow,” Monique breathes out. “That’s a big step.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, if she asks why, feel free to give me credit,” Monique says. “You know. In the name of Jehovah and all that.”

Shay groans. “I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Nope,” Monique says. “Now, come on. We have a protest to photograph.”

“I thought the revolution wasn’t gonna be televised,” Shay quips.

“Maybe not televised, but definitely Instagrammed,” Monique says.

Shay groans. “That’s such a corny line!” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Monique laughs. “Make sure you grab a makeup wipe. You got lipstick all over your mouth.”

Shay laughs in her face. “I wonder whose it is?” 

+++

**Monday, November 4, 8:46 AM**

_36\. Which of the following actions by public school students would most likely be protected symbolic speech based on the precedent established by Tinker v. Des Moines Independent Community School District (1969)?_

_ (A) Leading prayers over the school’s public address system _

_ (B) Publishing an editorial in the school newspaper _

_ (C) Protesting a school board decision by disrupting a school assembly _

_ (D) Wearing t-shirts objecting to a school board decision _

Shay quickly skims over the question, but feels her phone vibrating in her pocket before she can comprehend what she’s reading. Yawning, she pulls her phone out of her pocket to see a text message from her dad.

_ Hey honey, sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye before I left last night. _

_ Just wanted to remind you of how much I love you and how proud I am of you. _

_ Take care of your mom and try not to stress too much. _

_"And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love." _

Shay smiles down at her phone, aware of how differently those Biblical words might have read to her even a few days ago. 

_Love you too, Dad. See you for Thanksgiving. _

She puts her phone away, going back to the packet. Before she can read the question again though, a short laugh breaks her concentration. She looks up to see Zoya dropping her bag onto the table, grinning at her. There are slight bags under her eyes, but she looks happy overall. Zoya scoots her books over so that Zoya has more space as she collapses into the chair next to her.

“What’s up?” Shay asks.

“I didn’t finish the assignment either,” Zoya admits. 

“Fuck,” Shay jokes. “I was hoping to copy your answers.”

“I was hoping to copy yours,” Zoya shoots back, smiling.

“Guess we're both copying off Kelsey,” Shay says.

Zoya rolls her eyes. “Kelsey’s left us to fend for ourselves. She and Jo are prepping for a meeting at City Hall for some permits for… you know.”

“How does she get away with missing so class?” Shay mutters, bewildered.

“Not to take anything away from my girl, cause you know, she does the work and she does it whole heartedly,” Zoya says. “But you and I both know why she can get away with it. And why she’s going in with Jo, even though Jo’s done the heavy planning for most of it.” 

Shay frowns. “Yeah.”

“Anyway.” Zoya clears her throat a bit. “I actually… wanted to… apologize to you.”

Shay’s eyebrows go up. “Apologize?”

Zoya nods like it physically hurts her. “When I was snapping at you, when you and Monique were fighting? You were right, it wasn’t really my business. I just… got caught up because I was so angry, for Monique.”

Shay smiles tentatively. “Honestly, I get it. And you don’t really have to apologize, but thank you.”

“I’m… ugh… you know, trying to get better at admitting when I do too much,” Zoya says.

Shay pauses. “I wish I was more like you. You know… I get so mad when other people don’t talk about how they’re feeling but it’s harder for me to… do that.”

“I don’t know,” Shay says. “I guess we all need balance.”

“Yeah,” Shay says. 

“And also, you and Monique… you make her really happy,” Zoya says. “Y’all are cute or whatever.”

Shay grins at her. “You think so?”

Zoya rolls her eyes. “Yes. But if I can give you a little advice?”

Shay groans, only half joking. “What now?”

“Just... ” Zoya hesitates. “Monique told me that she told you about her depression, and all that. I just want to say… you know, be patient, on the bad days. And even if it seems like it, it has nothing to do with you, it’s just… you know.”

Shay takes a deep breath, thinking about her parents. “I know. Thanks.”

Zoya nods slowly. “I’m not - look, I promise I’m not trying to be noisy or whatever, but sometimes it’s easy you say you know, and it’s another thing to actually know.”

“No, I get it,” Shay says. “Honestly, I do. And… I appreciate the advice.”

Zoya gives her a half smile.

“Even if I still think you’re really noisy,” Shay adds, breaking out into a small grin.

“Girl, bye,” Zoya huffs. “I can’t help it if I’m right like, ninety percent of the time while the rest of y’all run around like chickens with your heads cut off.”

“Oh, really?” Shay narrows her eyes, and before she knows it, more words are tumbling out of her mouth. “And how’s everything going with Kareem?” 

The look of absolute shock on Zoya’s face makes everything worthwhile. Her cheeks darken, her eyes go impossibly wide, and her mouth drops into a perfect ‘o.’ Shay has half a mind to whip out her phone and take a photo of the moment. She’s sure it rarely happens, if ever. Zoya, she thinks, just seems like one of those girls that’s always in charge of the conversation.

“I - I-” she sputters. “Who - Monique!”

“I have eyes,” Shay says, trying to sound mysterious and failing from the laughter in her voice. 

“There’s - that’s - nothing is -” Zoya starts to say.

“If I can give you a little advice?” Shay starts to say, a grin spreading across her face.

Zoya holds up her hand. “Nuh-uh, don’t try and turn this around on me. Operative word being try.”

“Oh, so you can dish it but you can’t take it,” Shay says in a solemn voice, the laughter peeking through. “Got it.”

“These are just - it’s two entirely different -” Zoya snaps her jaw shut. “You know what, girl, you’re right. Let me just mind my business.”

Zoya doesn’t look angry, though. She just smiles at Shay, something kind and genuine, before looking at her packet again. The classroom is filling in a bit more, just a few more moments before the bell goes off. Mr. Anderson still hasn’t arrived, much to Shay’s relief. She still has about twenty questions to try and answer. Yet instead of circling things as rapidly as possible, she looks at Zoya thoughtfully. The folds of her hijab lay perfectly, just slightly covering her face as she goes through her packet.

“Uhm, Zoya?” Shay says. 

Zoya glances up. “Oh, so we’re still going, huh?”

Shay laughs. “No. It’s… I also… wanted to apologize.”

“For what?”

Shay says, “The way I snapped at you and Kelsey… a couple of weeks ago, about religion…”

Zoya hesitates. “No, you don’t have to.”

“No, I should,” Shay says. “I… was also in a bad space and I shouldn’t have come at you guys.”

“Honestly, you really didn’t,” Zoya says. “And I get why you said what you said. You know? It’s not like… it’s not like people don’t use religion for their own agendas. Misconstrue or quote things out of context or even just make up their own rules to further hate. I’ve even had other Muslims tell me that I’m not a good Muslim.”

“Really?”

Zoya nods. “So like, I get it. But I have to believe that for every person like that, there’s more people who are faithful because of how it teaches acceptance and love, you know?”

Shay takes a breath. “Yeah, I get that. It’s just hard, you know? I guess I’m still… I don’t know, just trying to learn about what to do when the hateful voices drown out the accepting ones. It’s fucking hard to just… not listen.” 

Zoya tilts her head in consideration. “Maybe it’s not about not listening. Maybe it’s about… speaking louder. Not for them, but for anyone else who overhears.” 

Shay snorts. “I guess that’s true.”

“Girl, I don’t know what else to tell you,” Zoya grins. “I guess… it’s all about that leap of faith.” 

Shay smirks. “I guess so. I don’t know if Monique told you but… I came out to my parents. It actually… you know, it went really well. Leap of faith and all that, it paid off.”

“Congrats, Shay,” Zoya smiles. “Nah, Monique didn’t tell me. She knows what’s her business to share and what’s not.”

“Oh,” Shay says. “Well, yeah. Anyway, I actually did it after our talk, uhm, in the bathroom? You… helped a lot. So… thank you, for that too.”

“I know it’s corny, but, anytime,” Zoya says. “I think… we might actually be friends now. So that means I got your back.”

Shay snorts. “So you finally decided third in class was worthy of your time?”

Zoya laughs. “Yeah, girl.”

“And, same here, you know,” Shay says. “If… you wanna talk, or anything. I’m here for you.” 

The door opens; Shay looks up, thinking it’s going to be Mr. Anderson. Instead, an older white woman with a DVD strolls in, smiling around at the class.

“Mr. Anderson is out sick today, so I’ll be covering,” she says, before looking down at her sheet. “It says here… hold onto all packets until Wednesday, and today we’ll watch an episode of _ The West Wing _ and you’re to do a short write-up on it.”

“Oh thank God,” Shay huffs on a laugh.

Zoya grins at her. “Alhamdulillah.”

+++

**Monday, November 4, 4:32 PM  
**

_New message from:_ ** _ **Kelsey Russell **_**

****Hey everyone!

Our permits are all set and we're ready to go for the 15th.

More information to follow in person.

And remember! Keep it off the Gram! 

+++

**Monday, November 4, 6:58 PM  
**

_New message from:_ ** _ ** Monique Cleaver  
** _ **

How do you feel about bowling?

Actually, it doesn't matter

Since you and Zoya are friends now she's decided that I can invite you to our monthly bowling night 

Monthly bowling night?

Damn I can't believe I ever thought you were cool

Shut up

I'd love to go

Well OBVIOUSLY 

It's a date 

Well, not a date-date cause it's a group thing but

No

It's a date 

:)

+++

**Tuesday, November 5, 3:19 PM**

_Big bold women, round of applause_

_Get-my-goals women, round of applause_

_Know-my-roots women, round of applause_

_It to come and getcha, getcha, getcha. Imma 'dem, I swear to Gonna get a female_

_Betcha, betcha, betcha_

_She gon' catch ya_

_Big bold women gonna come and applaud_

_Got-my-back women, I do applaud_

Shay waves at Marlon and Tyler as they drive off, and then leans against Zoya’s Hummer. She yawns, shifting around and hoping she’s not squashing the banana that’s in her bag. She catches a glimpse of Monique out of the corner of her eyes and pauses her music, getting ready to push off the car and grin. 

“I’m just tired,” Monique says, her lips curling up into a smile. “You know, photo editing and all my class work and everything.”

Zoya frowns. “Okay, but we can help you with that -”

“It’s fine,” Monique insists. “You don’t have to baby me. I’m capable of handing shit on my own.”

“I’m not saying you’re not,” Zoya says. “All I’m saying is -”

“Don’t worry about it,” Monique says quickly.

It’s then that Shay realizes Monique’s caught sight of her; Zoya hesitates before also seeing Shay. Her mouth thins into a line. Shay makes a big show of exiting out of her Spotify app, as if she’d been listening to it the entire time. A small pit forms in her stomach at her accidentally eavesdropping, especially when it’s clear Monique doesn’t want to talk about… whatever they were talking about in front of her. Her mind jumps back to being in Monique's room, the way she didn't want to talk about her medication or how she was feeling. 

“Hey,” Shay says, forcing a smile onto her face. “Ready for bowling night?”

Monique smiles back at her, but there’s something that just seems… exhausted in her gaze. Zoya doesn’t say anything, just unlocks the car and hops up into the driver’s seat. Monique sighs, and the pit in Shay’s stomach grows. She jumps into the backseat, then frowns when Zoya starts the car. She glances out of the window for Jo, Grace, Megan and Kelsey, but doesn't see them in the parking lot. She - and Marlon and Tyler - had assumed they would be coming. 

“Oh, is everyone else meeting us there?” Shay asks.

Zoya looks at her blankly through her rear view mirror. Monique sighs again, buckling her seatbelt in the front. Shay has the distinct feeling that she's missing something. 

“Well it wouldn’t make sense for them to drive from Central here,” Zoya says like Shay is obtuse.

It’s such a flippant response, so different from what Shay has become used to from Zoya, that she just blinks at the back of her head for a few silent moments. Zoya reaches forward to turn on some music, driving out of the parking lot.

_ Real hot girl shit _

_ Yeah, I'm in my bag, but I'm in his too _

_ And that's why every time you see me, I got some new shoes _

_ Ah, muah, ay, look _

_ (Lil Ju made this beat) _

“Zoya didn’t invite the girls,” Monique says, finally filling in the gap.

“They’re all busy,” Zoya says.

“I’m sure they would’ve changed their plans if you told them about this,” Monique says, a slight vicious note in her voice.

“But then we would’ve had uneven numbers for teams,” Zoya says back snappishly.

“Am I missing something?” Shay finally has to ask.

“No!” Zoya says.

“Yes!” Monique says. “Zoya -”

“Is gonna kick your ass out the car if you keep pestering her,” Zoya says, before reaching over to raise the volume. 

Shay shifts uncomfortably, catching Monique’s eye in the rear view mirror. She thinks Monique mouths back _ I’ll tell you later _, but she can’t be exactly sure.

“I saw that!” Zoya yells over the music. 

_ Can't be fucked with, no _

_ Ho you can't touch this, ay _

_ Bitch, I do rich shit, huh _

_ My money thick thick, ay _

_ Walk with a limp, limp, huh _

_ I'm on some pimp shit, ay _

_ He say, "You all about money, " yeah _

_ I'm on that cash shit, huh _

_ I'm in my bag, bitch, huh _

_ I'm on your ass, bitch, huh _

_ I'm in that new new shit _

_ You on that last year, huh _

_ Bitch, I do pimp shit, huh _

_ Ho, you on simp shit, ay _

_ He say, "You all about money, " yeah _

_ I'm on that cash shit, ah _

Bowling with Monique’s friends turns out to be an extremely chaotic activity. Shay leans back in her seat, shoving chili cheese fries into her mouth as she watches Zainab - who introduced herself as a ‘Blarab, just like Yara Shahidi’ - pull her incredibly curly hair up into a ponytail before crouching slightly to the left of their lane. Hassan - the Arab guy from the Spades table at that one party - is too focused on the ball in his hand to notice. He throws his arm back and then forward to release the ball. Somehow though, Zainab launches herself forward and grabs his bowling ball before it can land into the lane. She cradles it like a football for a moment before dropping it right into the gutter.

Shay almost chokes on her fries; Monique seems to absent-mindedly hit her on the back. No one else seems as shocked or impressed by Zainab’s moves. Hassan howls as the ball just rolls down the gutter and bypasses all of the pins. 

“Did you - tell her to stop cheating!” Hassan shouts, pointing his finger at Sekou. “Y’all always be cheating, that’s the only way you can win!”

Sekou shrugs at him, a shit-eating grin on his face. “I told you we should play with the guards up, but no.”

“She still would’ve fucking done that with the guards!” Hassan says. “I’m getting the manager.”

On her other side, Reggie, a lanky Black boy with braces, purses his lips. “Oh, so you just gonna get the authorities all up in here, further perpetuating a punitive system in which -” 

Hassan jabs his finger in Reggie's direction. “Don’t you start that shit with me, this is bowling, not a restorative justice meditation circle or whatever the shit!”

“Don’t be a sore loser,” Zainab says, sauntering back to her seat. “You’re embarrassing Mo in front of her girl.”

Hassan sputters. “Me?”

Shay turns to Monique to laugh, but the chuckle dies in her throat. Monique’s sitting a bit hunched on herself, eyes not really focused anywhere. Shay nudges her gently, and the motion seems to startle Monique awake.

“Hey,” Shay says.

Monique smiles, but tiredness is all Shay sees. “Hey, you.”

“You okay?” Shay asks. “You don’t seem… here.”

“Yah,” Monique says too quickly. “Yah, I’m having a lot of fun.”

“It’s okay if you’re not -”

“I am,” Monique says. “I’m just - really tired.”

“We can leave?” Shay says. “Or I can take you home -”

Something shutters in her gaze. “No, seriously. I’m having fun, I’m just tired. It’s cool. Hey, it’s my turn.”

Before Shay can say anything else, Monique gets up and walks towards the lane. Shay turns away, feeling slightly dismissed and a little overwhelmed. She glances towards Zoya, who’s already looking back at her. She smiles sympathetically at Shay, but then gets distracted by Kareem calling her name. He’s standing over by the concession stand, asking her if she wants something else since they’re all out of pretzels.

“Oh anything for you, Zoya,” Shay hears a mimicking, but not malicious, voice to her right. 

She turns again to see Sekou in Monique’s seat, grinning at her. There's something really infectious about it; Shay smiles back at him. 

“It’s good to see you again,” Sekou says. “I’m glad we can actually hang out this time.”

Shay’s face burns. “Yeah, me too.”

“Don’t look now, but Monique is glaring at me instead of throwing her second ball,” Sekou says. “I bet she thinks I’m telling all her embarrassing childhood secrets.”

“Is that what you’re gonna do?”

“No,” Sekou says. “Though by the end of the night, I’ll have you telling me all of your embarrassing childhood secrets.”

“I don’t have any,” Shay says, maintaining a straight face.

“No?”

“Nope,” Shay says. 

Sekou grins at her. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Monique looks over her shoulder just to yell, “You keep bothering Shay, I’m calling Lala to tell on you.”

Sekou snorts. “My girl’s got my back, I don’t know what you think you’re doing by telling -”

Monique shrugs casually before he can finish his sentence, turning back towards the lane. Sekou stiffens suddenly, as if that small gesture really shook him. 

“Oh shit,” Sekou groans, then turns to Shay. “They’re always ganging up on me. Even when I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Now where have I heard that before,” Zoya says wryly. 

Zoya walks around their chair to stand in front of them, a basket full of nachos in her hand. She gives Sekou a mock dirty look before dropping down in the small space between him and Shay. Sekou makes a loud noise of protest, before sliding down the bench. He tries to steal a few of Zoya’s chips, but without even looking at him, she expertly slaps his hand away.

Sekou glares over Zoya’s head. “She act like this at Bouldin too?”

Zoya rolls her eyes. “Act like what?”

“Like a brat?”

Zoya jabs her brother in the ribs with her elbow, causing Sekou to start wheezing. Hassan pulls out his phone to start recording it, laughing the entire time. Sekou slides his hand underneath Zoya’s nachos, trying to push them upwards to spill them; she maneuvers them into Shay’s lap instead as she half-turns to try and give Sekou a noogie. Shay is too busy laughing and trying to balance her chill fries with the nachos to do anything. 

“Now children, don’t fight,” Monique says dryly, coming back to sit on Shay’s other side.

Reggie slides down the bench with no issue, giving Monique a fist-bump as he does. Shay watches Sekou escapes from Zoya’s hold by wiggling until he’s on the floor. Zainab casually steps over him to take his seat, leaning over Zoya to grab the nachos. 

“I need a smoke break,” he announces from his new seat. “Shay?”

“Huh?” 

Sekou gets up, re-adjusting his clothes. “You wanna smoke?”

Shay grins. “Yeah, I could do that.”

“Cool,” Sekou says. 

Shay gets up, turning to hold her hand out to Monique. “You wanna?”

Something darkens in Monique’s eyes for a moment, and she shakes her head. “Nah, I can’t.”

Shay frowns at the wording. “You okay?”

Monique nods, her eyes not quite meeting Shay’s. “I think I told you, about… what my doctor said…?”

Shay feels herself flush, feeling super insensitive, and suddenly aware of how she’s just messed up in front of all of Monique’s friends. Despite everyone being so close together though, no one seems to be listening to their conversation. Zoya and Zainab are eating and watching Kareem at the lane; Hassan and Reggie are talking about a football game; Sekou is messing around on his phone. Despite the lack of an audience, something about everyone’s distractions seem too constructed to make Shay feel any better.

“I’m sorry,” Shay says immediately. “I - do you want me to stay here?”

Monique shakes her head no. “Just because I’m not smoking doesn’t mean you have to.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Monique says a bit snappishly. 

Shay winces slightly. “Okay. Just checking.”

Monique seems to deflate a bit. “No, I - it was cute that you asked. Sorry. I’m just -”

“Really tired?” Shay finishes for her, a slight smile on her face.

Monique doesn’t really smile back, but she makes a face like she’s trying to. “Yeah. It’s just been a long week.”

“Right,” Shay says. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

Monique does smile, then. “I’m sure. Besides, Sekou clearly wants y’all to have some kind of bonding experience.”

“Okay I don’t know why you said it like that, like it’s weird, cause it’s not,” Sekou says. “Come on, Shay. Let’s go where we’re appreciated.”

Shay tries not to laugh at the twin _I'm tired of your bullshit_ looks Monique and Zoya throw Sekou. She quickly leans down to kiss Monique’s cheek, catching just the corner of her lips, before reaching for her jacket. She shrugs it on as she follows Sekou out of the bowling alley.

_Cars, money so what_

_We just want real love_

_All that fake shit blow it up_

_No they can't control us_

_Out here livin how we want_

_Smokin weed n' gettin drunk_

_We don't give a fuck_

_We just want real love_

It’s dark outside except for the few street lamps illuminating the parking lot in yellow light. Sekou moves down the side of the building, pulling out a cigarette packet and a red lighter. He glances around for a moment, stretching just a bit to peer around one of the cars that’s parked next to them. When he doesn’t see anyone around, he pulls a spliff out of the pack, giving it to Shay with the lighter to start it. 

Shay brings the spliff up to her lips, cupping the lighter around her hands. It’s a bit windy, and it takes a moment for it to catch. She takes a deep inhale, holding the smoke in before passing the spliff back to Sekou. They smoke in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Sekou lifts his head up, blowing smoke towards the sky.

“I don’t wanna put too much pressure on you or anything, so feel free to tell me to shut the fuck up,” he starts, “but I’m really happy for Monique and you.”

“Thanks,” Shay says.

“I don’t know you, obviously,” he says. “But Mo’s really into you, and even Zoya openly compliments you. Not in her regular backhanded way either.” 

“I wish she’d do that to my face,” Shay jokes.

Sekou snorts. “But nah, Zoya acts hard but she’s actually just fluff. But I get it, it’s not easy for her, you know… people are assholes, and you gotta protect yourself how you can.” 

“No, I get it,” Shay says. 

Sekou looks at her sideways, taking another puff. “I bet you do.”

He passes the spliff over to her, and silence falls between them again for a moment. It’s not exactly awkward, although Shay’s not sure how to continue the conversation. She brings the spliff up to her mouth and takes a long drag.

“We all roast each other but at the end of the day, it’s all love,” Sekou says. “And Mo… you know, she’s special. Not in that way everyone thinks their best friend is special, but Mo is really special. She’s going places, you know? And… I guess I’m just saying I’m glad that she has someone who’s going there with her.”

Shay feels her heart warm. “That’s...so nice.”

He grins at her. “I know.”

“She means a lot to me,” Shay says. “Even though it hasn't been that long it's like... I already can't imagine what my life would be without her."

It slips out without Shay meaning too; she almost drops the spliff. Sekou doesn’t seem surprised at first, just nodding like he’s waiting for Shay to keep talking. When she doesn’t, he peers at her more closely, his eyebrows going up and his eyes widening softly.

“Oh,” he says, before a smile starts spreading on his face. “Oh damn.”

“Oh damn,” Shay repeats. "Sorry, that was really corny."

"No, it wasn't," Sekou says. "It's actually the thing I wanna hear the most when someone's talking about my best friend."

"Glad I'm winning points then," Shay jokes, giving Sekou the spliff.

Sekou smokes the last bit of the spliff before dropping it on the ground and crushing it under his heel. “It’s kinda funny, you know, I was there when Monique first saw you. And it’s crazy but I swear, I knew it then, that something was gonna happen between you guys. I mean, I doubt you even saw her, but the look in her eyes. I don't know, it was... something.”

“Huh?” Shay’s mind is blown. “What do you mean?”

Sekou smiles lopsidedly. “She’s never told you? The first time she saw you?”

“No,” Shay shakes her head. “I always - I don’t know. I assumed it was somewhere around school. Maybe when we first met.”

“Nah,” Sekou says. “It was in July.”

Shay almost falls down. “In July?”

“Yeah, homie,” Sekou says. “It was me, Reggie and her. Reg’s a huge music fan, he loves discovering indie stuff, and he heard about your band. I think Zoya showed him your music video.”

“Oh,” Shay says.

“And he saw y’all were playing a show, so he dragged me and Mo along,” Sekou says, then winces. “No offense. Your music is really good, but I was moping about Lala going off to college and Mo was angry about having to change schools. You know how it is.”

“Right,” Shay says.

“So we went to the venue, we’re standing somewhere in the back. Mo’s saying something about something, and then they announce y’all. The lights go up and you - honestly I’m not sure what you were doing, it was like you were high on some white people shit with your energy. You were running around on stage, hyping the crowd, you had this weird, green mohawk wig on -”

Shay smiles. “I know exactly what show you’re talking about.”

“And I look over at Mo, waiting for her to finish before y’all start, but… that was it. She was gone.”

“She never told me that,” Shay says.

Sekou smiles. "Yeah, and then all the rest of the summer she waited for y'all to drop new music, made us watch that one video like ten thousand times."

"So you weren't just fucking with her at the party?" Shay laughs. "That was true, what you said?"

"Yup," he says. "Man, you shoulda heard her talking about the first time y'all chilled, how cool and pretty she thought you were, how y'all just... like clicked."

"Yeah," Shay grins.

"But don't tell her I told you," Sekou says, tone half serious. "She’d literally murder me.”

“Our little secret, huh?” Shay laughs.

“That’s how friendships are born,” Sekou says. “It’s how me and Mo got tight.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah,” Sekou grins. “It was at a family party, you know, them cousins that aren’t actually your cousins -”

The door to the bowling alley swings open, and one of the workers, a white woman who looks to be about in her mid-twenties, steps out in a padded denim jacket, car keys in her hands. She walks down the narrow sidewalk a few feet before she seems to catch a glimpse of Shay and Sekou. Sekou nods back at her, a friendly smile on his face. The woman frowns back at them, eyes darting between the door and where they’re standing.

“It’s against company policy to bring bowling shoes outside,” she says curtly to them.

Shay glances down at her feet, forgetting that she was even wearing the hideous things.

“Sorry, we didn’t realize,” Sekou says. “We’ll go right back in.”

There’s an odd affliction to his voice, and it takes Shay a moment to place it. It’s the same kind of tone that she’s heard her dad use before, when he’s talking to his white bosses. It’s when he pitches his voice a little bit higher and slouches his shoulder a little bit more, as if he’s trying to make himself as small as possible. Shay bites down on her lip to keep from frowning.

“We’ve had a lot of thefts,” the woman says, as if he didn’t hear Sekou. “A lot of them. You’re lucky I’m giving you a warning instead of going to get my manager. Or calling the cops.”

“We really appreciate that,” Sekou says evenly. “Thank you for letting us know.”

He looks at Shay, nodding his head back towards the door. Shay swallows down the nagging rage in her throat, the kind that always pops up in situations like this, where part of her is left confused about what exactly’s happening while the other part knows exactly why she’s being treated like this. 

She and Sekou takes a few steps, causing the girl to flinch back.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice going high.

“We’re just going back inside,” Shay replies in the most steady tone that she can. 

The bowling alley door opens again, and a white couple comes out. The girl glances at them and then looks back at Shay and Sekou. The couple seem too drunk to notice the odd tension that’s happening; they laugh and gently shove at each other as they make their way down the narrow pathway. The girl pauses for a moment before following closely after them, not even giving Shay and Sekou another glance. 

Shay stays rooted to the sidewalk for a moment, her stomach twisting up inside of her. She glance over at Sekou. He’s breathing in and out evenly, if a bit loudly. He closes his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again, eyes landing right on Shay.

“I get it,” he says. “I really do. I understand it. But sometimes…”

Shay exhales slowly. She thinks of her father, and of Diana. 

"It's that shit that got Botham Jean killed, for just being in his own damn apartment," Sekou says, harshly. "That shit that only gave his murderer ten years in prison and a fucking hug, just over in Dallas and -"

He sucks in a deep breath and then slowly lets it out, like he's trying to center himself. Shay wishes she knew what to say. Sekou nods after a moment.

“Some days are harder than others,” Sekou finally says. 

“I’m sorry,” Shay says.

It's inadequate, but it's the only thing she can come up with. Part of her brain is still trying to process the looks that that woman had given them, the accusations she had made. Calling the fucking cops? For wearing bowling alley shoes outside? 

No, she thinks.

For being a Black guy and a Black dyke. 

“Me too.” Sekou says, drawing Shay out of her own head.

When she looks up at him, there's a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. It doesn't quite meet his dark eyes. 

He asks, "Hey, would you... like mind if we didn't say anything when we go back in there?"

Shay blinks in surprise. "Uhm..."

"I just..." Sekou sighs. "I think... you know, I don't really wanna bring the mood down for some bullshit like that, you know?"

Shay doesn't really know. "Okay..."

"It's just - we're... we're okay. Right? I just down wanna have to hash it out, or like... I don't want to make Zoya and Mo upset when nothing happened."

Shay bites on her lip. "No, I get it. It's... yeah."

"Man, we're really racking up the friendship secrets tonight," he says.

Shay laughs, but it's hollow to her own ears. Although she understands why Sekou doesn't want to say anything, she feels a knot already forming in her stomach. Especially after all the work she's been trying to do to be honest, it just feels wrong, somehow. Like they're not saying anything because it's actually their faults, instead of hers. And despite his insistance that nothing happened, she knows that it did. Something shifted for her, and she just... it just...

She nods at him in understanding, because he's right.

"Thanks," Sekou replies. 

With nothing else left to say, they head back into the bowling alley. 

+++

**Tuesday, November 5, 9:12 PM**

_New message from_ ** _: Monique Cleaver _ **

Hey, I meant to ask, are we okay?

What? Why?

Of course we're okay

Okay

Why did you ask?

**10:01 PM**

Monique?

Did I do something?

No

It's nothing

It's just that you and Sekou were kinda quiet when you came back inside

I just wanted to make sure it wasn't like about something I did or whatever

Oh, haha

No that was just like, I guess the weed or whatever

Totally zoned me out

Oh okay

Sorry, I didn't even realize

No, it's ok

Yeah Sekou has some weird shit

Not as weird as that shit you gave me before!

Haha

**11:21 PM**

I can't wait for Friday

Yeah, same <3

+++

**Wednesday, November 6, 3:19 PM**

Shay strolls into the library, quietly moving around tables to try and spot Tyler. He had texted that he would be near the L’s section, which she had only snorted at. Most of the tables are packed, a testament to how homework has just been ramping up as the semester goes on. That, she thinks wryly, or everyone is trying to finish their college apps before the deadline. The library's usually not the place to be after school, yet here it is, absolutely packed. 

She feels herself stiffen inadvertently as she passes by the table that Francis a bunch of her friends are sitting at. She keeps her head up and refuses to acknowledge them, even though part of her want to pretend to go sit next to her just to see her flinch away. The few low whispers she hears as she goes almost have her pausing, but she thinks back to the woman from the night before. She inadvertently glances over her shoulder to see the look Francis is giving to her back. The same kind of disgust layered over fear that she had seen last night. 

Her throat works and she almost snaps her neck turning forward again. She closes her eyes momentarily but keeps moving forward, trying not to let her angry spike. 

“ - came out as non-binary this summer, and it’s actually like, really cool, cause they’ve been teaching me about all these, like, third genders that been existed in Mexico,” Shay hears a voice say as she turns the corner. “It’s been kind of hard for my parents cause they don’t really speak English and -”

“Spanish is so gendered,” Tyler’s voice answers. 

Shay stops short when she sees Josefina and Tyler sitting at a four-person table together, a bag of grapes between them. Their textbooks are open on the desk, and it’s clear they’ve been at it for a while. Shay just blinks at them, not even bothering to move out of the way when someone behind her says "excuse me" and tries to squeeze past her. The surprise of seeing them together almost makes her forget her anger and discomfort; she stares at them, just unsure of what to make of this. 

“Yeah, exactly,” Jo answers, tossing a grape in her mouth. “But we’ve been trying to experiment with ‘e’ at the end, sometimes ‘x,’ which sometimes sounds weird but also like, kind of works when we try to do it with the Nahuatl pronunciation.”

“Hey?” Shay says curiously, stepping closer to the table.

Tyler and Jo look up, smiles spreading on both of their faces. Seeing how happy they are to see her helps her breathe a little easier, and she goes up to the table. Tyler moves some of his textbooks over so that Shay can come and sit down.

“I texted you like ten minutes ago, what took you so long?” He asks. 

Shay rolls her eyes, dropping down into the seat next to him. “Maybe I would’ve found you sooner if you weren’t sitting in the armpit of the library.”

“Hey,” Jo says, “this isn’t the armpit of the library, it’s the best part. You can totally eat back here and talk and no one says anything.”

“Isn’t the point of the library to be studying?” Shay asks. “Not socializing?”

“Okay, mom,” Jo says.

Before Shay can say anything, Tyler gives Jo a fist bump. She gives them a confused look.

“Sorry, when did this happen?” she says, gesturing to them.

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Keep up, Shady. I told you, Jo’s cool.” 

Jo pop another grape into her mouth, giving Shay a knowing look.

“Okay,” Shay huffs on a laugh, pulling all her books out. “Alright.”

“Anyway, I was telling Ty that my older sibling just came out as non-binary,” Jo says. 

“Should you just be… running around telling people that?” Shay asks.

Jo waves her hand. “Oh, don’t worry, they’re totally cool with it. We talked about it and they even want me to post about it on my Insta and stuff. We’re gonna do a whole special on like, androgyny and gender and how it doesn’t have to just be a skinny white person with short hair thing.”

“Oh,” Shay says. “Oh. That’s - actually really cool.”

“I know, right?” Jo smiles. “We actually were talking about it in Bio, too.”

“Androgyny?”

“Sexuality and gender,” Tyler says, gesturing to their textbooks. “We have to co-write a paper on a ‘controversial’ topic. So we’re going with how being gay is actually like, a part of evolutionary theory.”

“Huh,” Shay says.

“Yeah, it’s actually really cool,” Jo says. “There’s actually a bunch of evidence that supports it.” 

“And it will piss off all the Republicans in our class,” Tyler grins.

Shay chokes. “Always a good reason to do anything.”

“Speaking of pissing off Republicans,” Jo says, “how’s the song going?”

Tyler and Shay glance at each other.

“It’s… going,” Shay says. “How’s the protest planning going?”

Jo raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. “It’s okay. Monique sent me all the photos so Zoya and I are headed to a printer to have them made up on posters. And so far, Operation: Spread the Word has been fine. Grace's cousin, Eve, and a bunch of her friends are all gonna come out and support and they're making like, pocket hand-outs for us. Protesting 101.”

"Oh, nice," Shay says. "Hey - you know Diana Tran? Is she helping?"

Shay feels a little bit ashamed that she didn't even think of hitting Diana up about this, but she brushes it off. She's been through an emotional rollercoaster recently.

"Yeah! She's super nice," Jo says. "I'm excited to have all of them helping."

“I’m honestly surprised I haven’t seen anything on social media yet,” Tyler says. “And it doesn’t seem like the school has any clue.”

Jo nods. “It’s kinda hard. We’ve had to be really selective about who we tell and then make them swear to be selective about who they tell. I was talking to my dad about it and he said it’s like when his plant was trying to unionize.”

“By the way,” Tyler says, “You mentioned trying to get parents and stuff involved? Along with Eve and them?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jo nods. “We’re gonna try to get a crowd outside to support us? So if you’re not worried about totally getting in trouble for skipping class, bring your family.”

“That’s a really good idea,” Shay says. "My mom mentioned wanting to help, so I'll let her know." 

“Yeah, my abuela is totally psyched,” Jo says, smirking a little. “She thinks that it’s good that I finally have a hobby besides ‘playing’ with makeup.” 

Jo’s phone goes off, and she takes a peek at it before standing up. 

“Time for dance practice,” she says, beginning to gather her stuff up. “Captain Kelsey waits for no one.”

Shay and Tyler say bye, watching her as she manages to juggle her textbooks, grapes, bookbag, and phone as she walks. Shay thinks she hears the school librarian yell, “food still isn’t allowed in the library, Ms. Valencia!”

Tyler is quiet for a long moment before he says, “I’m positive Jo is not straight.”

Shay almost chokes on her spit. “No shit!”

“Look I know I said what I said about that whole crew being super straight but the more I get to know her -”

“No, I thought the same thing sophomore year,” Shay says. “When Meg told me she hooked up with ‘Jo’ I automatically thought she meant 'Josefina.'”

Tyler gives her a look. “More like wishful thinking?”

Shay flings her pen cap at him. “No. Okay, yes, but also she just gives me that vibe.”

“She has to be bi or pan or something,” Tyler says.

“Now that y’all are best friends, you can just ask her,” Shay says, only a little snarky.

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Jealous, are we?”

“What?” Shay snorts. “No.”

“Don’t worry,” he smirks. “You’ll always be my favorite lesbian.”

“I don't have any more pen caps to throw at you,” Shay tells him. 

Tyler makes a face back at her, then looks back down at his notes in front of him. Shay shifts slightly, staring at the top of his head. She's still not completely okay, her dark mood just on the periphery of her mind. It’s on the tip of her tongue to tell him about what happened last night, about that woman. But instead of focusing on that, her mind wanders to Monique. She shifts again, then clears her throat.

"Uhm, Ty?" she says hesitantly.

He looks up at her. "Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yes, I will go sex toy shopping with you," he says, clutching his hands to his heart. "I thought you'd never ask -"

She rolls her eyes. "Come on, seriously."

He must catch the look in her eyes, because his smile fades. "Yeah, of course. Sorry."

"No, it's okay," she says. "I just... I think Monique is having...”

”What?”

“I…” Shay sighs. “So… Monique told me that she… was diagnosed with depression. Or maybe bipolar depression? She’s going to therapy and stuff for whatever it is. They don’t really know, I guess.”

“Okay,” Tyler says slowly. “Well, I think that’s pretty normal, you know. Sometimes a misdiagnosis happens. And having a mental illness is like, you know, being sick in any other way, as long as you -”

“I know,” Shay says quickly. “And that - her being sick like that doesn’t bother me or anything. You know, it’s like… just a part of life.”

“Yeah.”

“But the thing is, it’s like… well the other day, I kinda overheard Monique and Zoya talking, and… Monique’s been… well she keeps saying that she’s tired, and she doesn't really want to talk about some stuff, so I think it’s…”

Tyler looks at her kindly. “Something more?” 

“Yeah,” Shay says. “And last night… I don’t know, we were texting and it was kinda weird…”

She hesitates, before unlocking her phone and scrolling into her messages with Monique. Passing her phone back over to Tyler, she waits while he goes through the messages, a small frown forming on his face. 

“I know it’s stupid,” Shay says. “And it’s probably nothing. But altogether…”

“Yeah,” Tyler says. “I get it.”

“And I’m just not really sure… what to do,” she says. “When Zoya was asking her if she was okay, or when I did it, she… like not in a bad way but got kinda defensive? And I’m just worried, like… I want her to know I’m here for her but I don’t want to treat her like a kid. She was saying…”

Shay trails off, thinking about what Monique said about her relationship with her mother changing after she was hospitalized. _She’s way too overprotective sometimes. Like she’s afraid that if she lets me breathe on my own, I’ll… _Shay lets out a small, morose sigh. Tyler peers at her curiously, not saying anything. 

“Anyway. I don’t want to like, suffocate her, you know? By pestering her about how she’s feeling and if she needs anything or whatever. But I also, like, want her to be able to talk to me about this stuff?” Shay sighs. “I don’t know. Like we’ve had a lot of really deep conversations about her depression, or whatever, but…”

Zoya’s voice pops into her head. _ Sometimes it’s easy to say you know, and it’s another thing to actually know. _She frowns, looking at Tyler. He stares back at her and doesn’t say anything for a long moment. 

“Maybe you just need to try and be patient,” Tyler says finally. “Like, actually patient. Not Shay patient.”

“What does that mean?”

“Not like… holding it in and getting antsy and then just expecting everyone to have a big kumbaya or emotional moment when you’re about to pop,” Tyler says.

“I don’t -”

“Yes, you do,” Tyler says. “And, okay, a lot of times, you’re in the right about people needing to talk and stuff. But sometimes, you have to give people time. Like, you can’t just run in, guns blazing and demand that she talk to you, you know?”

Shay sighs. “I - alright. But I’m just worried that she thinks that she can’t talk to me about it.”

“But, have you ever thought that maybe she just doesn’t want to talk to anyone about it?” he asks. “If she’s like, dismissing Zoya, then maybe she’s just not ready. Like… before I told you and Marlon about being depressed it was… you know? I wasn’t ready. And besides, she has her therapist, too. Right? I'm sure they're working on that stuff. You don't have to be her own lifeline. And it's good that you're not.”

“I know,” Shay huffs. “I hate it, but I know.”

Tyler smiles. “Sometimes it’s about being there for a long time, not a good time.”

“Yeah, I know,” Shay says. “I know. I just… I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“You won’t,” Tyler says. “But if you do... you know, it’s all about how you fix your mistakes, I think.”

”Okay,” she says. “Okay. Thanks, Ty.” 

“Duh, that’s what I’m here for, Shady,” Tyler says, before he smiles at her softly. “Hey, I was thinking, do you remember when we met, before freshman year?”

“Getting nostalgic?” Shay asks with her own soft smile. “Here, in the library?”

“It was during that summer program, to orient us to high school or whatever,” Tyler says. “And we had English together, what did they make us read?”

“_Summer of My German Soldier_.”

“Oh yeah, that bullshit book,” Tyler shakes his head. “But those girls in front of us were talking about - who was it?”

“I don’t know, these two gay boys from some European television show,” Shay says.

“Right, and what did she say? ‘There’s no way he’s a top, he’s too soft for that?’” Tyler starts cackling. “And our eyes met across the room and it was destiny.”

Shay smiles. “It would be, that the first friend I make in high school was you.”

“I knew you were gay before you did,” Tyler says.

“Hah!”

“I did,” he insists. “That’s why we became friends mostly.”

She snorts at him. “So what, is that what you’re doing here? Just collecting all the queer women of color in school?”

“Don’t be so shady.”

“The truth hurts.”

He rolls his eyes at her. “And now the moment is done. Congrats on ruining it with your big mouth.”

“That’s not what your mom was saying last night.”

Tyler flings her pen cap back at her.

+++

**Thursday, November 7, 4:53 PM**

“After we finish this song,” Marlon says, “we should write a song on the futility of writing protest songs.”

Shay and Tyler groan in unison.

“I - okay, assholes,” he says good-naturedly, “just hear me out. It’s like… you write a song to bring attention to your cause, but then what happens when your music, and then the cause, gets commercialized? Is it all just meaningless in the face of a capitalist -”

“Bro, Black people have been writing protest songs since like, forever,” Shay says. “I think you can cool it with the ethical debate on it for the moment.”

“I mean, yeah, but doesn’t that just speak to the commodification of a Black struggle in a nation that -”

“Oh, we talking the politics of hypervisibility in an antiblack, globalized market?” Diana’s voice calls out.

Shay looks up to see Diana and Jamie hovering in the doorway that connects the garage from the kitchen, holding a plateful of brownies. 

“Hey,” Shay smiles at them.

“We come bearing gifts,” Jamie says. “Baby Frazier, your mom was so nice when we first moved in, letting us borrow so much stuff and making that bombass casserole, we decided to return the favor with some special brownies.”

Marlon chokes. “You made pot brownies for my mom?”

“Boy, bye!” Diana rolls her eyes. “They just meant that they’re made with love.”

“Though I could make your mom some… other kinds of desserts if she wants,” Jamie says seriously. “I make these mean cake pops -”

“My mom doesn’t get high!” 

“That’s funny, cause she told us you were a Four-Twenty baby,” Jamie frowns. 

Tyler and Shay crack up laughing as Marlon’s face turns a strange shade of purple. Tyler almost falls off of his stool from cackling so hard. Shay tries to take a photo of Marlon’s face, but is shaking too much to keep her phone steady. Diana smacks Jamie with the back of her hand, clearly trying to keep from laughing too. 

“Will you stop messing with Baby Frazier!” she says, laughter lacing her boy. “Look, he’s about to pass out from shame.”

“Alright, alright,” Jamie grins, going over to Marlon with their plate of brownies. “Come on, Baby Frazier. Take a deep breath and eat some fudgey goodness.”

“Yeah Baby Frazier,” Tyler cackles.

Marlon flips Tyler off with one hand, and reaches for a brownie with another. Diana meanders over to the couch, plopping down and getting comfortable. Shay goes over to join her and Tyler abandons his keyboard to go over to Jamie, grabbing a brownie and asking them if they can really make some pot brownies. Shay folds her legs underneath her, getting comfortable on the couch. She looks over at Diana, who’s leaning her head back on the couch with her eyes closed. Everything about her screams _tired_. Not really able to shake off her funk, Shay understands how she feels. 

“You alive?” Shay asks, gently poking her.

Diana opens her eyes and smiles tiredly. “Just barely.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“That’s life,” Diana says. “So, y’all working on a new song? We heard some of the opening chords. It sounds good. ”

“Yeah,” Shay says. “Thanks. It's for the walk-out you know, so I think we're like... I don't know, just really working to get it right."

Diana nods. "Eve was telling me that y'all were doing that. You know, I'm really proud of alla y'all. I wish I had been that brave when I was in high school."

"It doesn't feel very brave," Shay says. 

"But it is," Diana says. "And I'm totally psyched to be there for y'all."

"I feel like it's not really kicking in yet," Shay says. "I guess I'll be more nervous or whatever the closer to the day it is."

"Yeah, maybe," Diana says. "Damn, I remember my first protest. It was with Black Lives Matter. I definitely wore the wrong kinda shoes, had blisters for weeks. But... you know, it was worth it."

"Even though nothing's really changed?" Shay asks, the words pouring out of her before she can think about them. "Maybe that's why I'm not getting hype. Sometimes it feels like... we're just marching and protesting and shit and nothing changes. We're still... like, racists just continue on."

Diana looks at her for a long moment before answering. "What's up with you, Shay?"

"What do you mean?"

"You look much better than last time I saw you, but you still got that roadkill look," she says bluntly. "And... you seem exhausted. Like seriously, spiritually tired. It's something with your parents?" 

Shay almost laughs. "Actually, uhm, no. I - I came out to them. And they - they were actually really great about it." 

Diana moves so quickly that Shay startles from the shift. One moment, Diana’s nodding thoughtfully along, and the next, she’s right next to Shay. She pulls her into a strong hug, squeezing Shay tightly. Shay makes a small noise of surprise before hugging her back, squeezing just as hard.

“That’s amazing,” Diana says when she pulls back. “I want all the details! And I’m so happy for you!”

“Well -”

“Not that I wouldn’t still be proud if you decided not to tell them,” Diana interrupts her, clarifying. “But this is a big step, and it’s great. I’m glad. They made you feel safe, and everything?”

“Yeah,” Shay says. “Actually, yeah. And I just feel… so free. It’s - hard to explain, but I guess you know how I feel."

“I definitely do.” Diana smiles. “So - oh. Are you and your boo still fighting?"

Shay shakes her head no, a small smile actually gracing her mouth. “Oh, damn, I can't believe I didn't get to tell you. No, we made up.”

Diana smiles warmly at her. "That's awesome, girl. So your parents were dope, you and your girl are good, and I see you rocking your new look -" 

Shay flushes. “I think it’s just one step at a time, for now. You know for this whole... stud thing.”

“Well, you’re pulling it off,” Diana says.

"Thanks."

"So tell me. What's up? Did something happen, or..." Diana's voice softens. "Cause you seem like you're happy, except for this cloud around your head." 

"I..." Shay sags slightly. "It's... something happened, a couple of nights ago. And I haven't really talked about it yet, cause..."

She can feel her face getting hot, for some reason feeling guilty and ashamed about what happened. She doesn't know if it's from the weight of that woman's racist condemnation on her back, or if it's from keeping it from everyone so far. But as Shay looks into Diana’s face, she realizes that she didn’t even know how mad she was about it until now. 

Diana straightens. “What? Are you okay?”

Shay shrugs. “Yeah. I was just… I was out with Monique and some of her friends, and… I don’t even know how it happened. Me and Sekou - that’s her best friend - we were outside smoking and this white woman came out and she… fuck. It makes me feel like an asshole, but she totally acted like we…”

“Ah,” Diana says. 

“We were just fucking standing there,” Shay says. “And she started fucking - all we did was wear the bowling shoes outside. And she’s talking about the manager and the cops and -”

"Oh, fuck."

Shay lowers her voice, glancing at Marlon, Diana and Tyler. “And I know it’s scary being in the dark alone, but… that shit never happened when I was with Mar and Ty, that shit never happened when I wasn’t dressing like… like me.”

“I get it,” Diana says softly. 

Shay takes a slow inhale. “It was just some lady, just one time. And… nothing even happened, not really.”

“But you don’t know about next time,” Diana says.

Shay glances down. “It’s like… so we’re doing this walk-out, but it’s just one school. And what if nothing changes even then, you know? My mom said that I come from a family of activists, or whatever. Thinking about that now… it just makes me really fucking tired. I know Audre said we gotta speak up cause we’ll always be afraid anyway, but… damn.”

"Yeah."

"I know I should just be able to brush it off, especially cause of... cause of how good things have been recently. But it's like... I don't know. I'm angry, ashamed, guilty... even though I know I didn't do anything wrong. It was... like you said. I was just standing there. Existing. And she decided... that because of how we looked and our skin tone that..." 

Diana pauses for a moment. “Honestly...”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck that girl.”

Shay chokes on her spit.

“Look, maybe I’m not supposed to say that. And like, I get it, I get her fear. But sometimes I’m just damned tired of extending empathy to people who don’t even wanna see me in my full humanity. So honestly? Fuck her.”

Shay gurgles. “Oh.”

"Sometimes it may seem fruitless, but we gotta go onward and upward. When I'm out in those streets, I'm demanding that they see me, yeah. But I'm also letting them know that they're not gonna fucking get away with this shit anymore. And they can either recognize that shit or they can go fuck themselves."

"I..." Shay nods. "Oh - okay." 

It's not exactly what Shay's come to expect from her other talks with Diana, but as they sit in silence for a moment, she does realize that she feels a little bit better. Diana's leaning back against the couch again, seeming to sink into the cushions. Shay wonders if sometimes, what really helps is just someone who understands, someone to just vent to. She's still upset, but as she takes a steadying breath in, it doesn't weigh on her as much. 

Diana closes her eyes. “Sorry. I’m running low today and I think this is all you’re gonna get out of me.”

“No, you actually... helped,” Shay says. “Honestly, you’re great as far as gurus go. But everyone needs a day off.”

Diana opens one eye. “Guru? Girl, what in the world?”

Shay grins at her. “Auntie?”

“I’m not that damn old!”

“I think you need a nap,” Shay tells her.

“I definitely do,” Diana says. “Naps should be fully integrated into our daily lives.”

Tyler meanders over, chewing on a brownie with his mouth open. Shay resists the urge to grab one of the couch cushions and throw it at his face. In the background, Jamie and Marlon are leaning over his writing journal. For some reason, Jamie is holding up a triangle and keeps hitting it on every sixteen count. Marlon nods frantically, scribbling shit down. 

“They’re in the zone or whatever,” Tyler says. “Jamie is hyping Mar up way too much. It’s gonna take months to deflate him.”

Diana snorts sleepily. “That’s Jamie for ya.”

“They bored me,” Tyler says. “What are we talking about here?”

Diana says, “naptime for adults. The myth of white womanhood. Gender non-conforming. Shay’s boo and Shay’s mom.”

“Is that a thing that’s happening?”

"What thing?"

"Monique meeting your parents."

“What? No,” Shay says. “At least - not yet. It’s too soon.”

“Too soon?” Diana cracks one eye open. 

“No one thinks that but you,” Tyler says.

“Oh, and who have you been talking to about my love life?” Shay scoffs.

“Megan, for starters,” Tyler says, yawning like it’s no big deal.

Shay thinks he’s fucking with her. “Megan Flores?”

“Didn’t you have a crush on a girl named Megan?” Diana grins devilishly, both eyes open now. “Oh, this is good.”

“Not the point!” Shay snaps. “Since when do you and Megan discuss my business? Actually - since when are you and Megan discuss anything at all?” 

Tyler shrugs casually. “I'm making an effort. Since you’re not in love with her anymore and she and Marlon aren’t driving each other all… whatever anymore, I figured I should try. Considering how many friends we have in common.”

“How many friends you have in common,” Shay deadpans.

“She’s not completely horrible,” Tyler says.

“Couldn’t have come to that conclusion two years ago, making my life easy, huh?” Marlon snorts.

Shay didn’t even notice him and Jamie wandering over to the group. Jamie plops down on the couch with the brownies still in their lap, and Marlon perches on an overturned crate nearby. His tone doesn’t seem angry or even upset; there’s a hint of humor in it that Shay can’t quite figure out.

“Maybe I would’ve noticed two years ago if y'all weren't so obnoxious,” Tyler says.

“Anyway,” Diana says loudly. “What’s good then? You mean like, it’s too soon to meet your mom or it’s too soon to like… put a label on it? Or do young people just not do the whole girlfriend-girlfriend thing anymore.”

“I mean… Shay shrugs. “I guess we still do?”

“We do,” Marlon confirms. “It’s all about consent and communica -”

“Anyway, I don’t know. We just… haven’t talked about… any of that yet.” Shay says. “Everything just feels so… so natural that to be honest, it just hasn’t come up. But also, yeah, my mom was totally cool about me being a lesbian but, you know. Maybe some baby steps here.” 

“Nothing wrong with that,” Jamie says.

“Yeah, but, you know, it’s good,” Shay says. “We’ve been hanging out a lot, and we have a date on Friday. So… it’s good. It’s real good.”

Her heart warms up again, just thinking about Monique.

“Ugh, it’s so cute,” Tyler groans. "I can't stand it." 

Jamie pats him on the top of his head, leaving brownie crumbs tumbling down his shoulders. 

+++

**Thursday, November 7, 4:38 PM **

_New message to: **Monique Cleaver **_

Hey, missed you in school today

Zoya told me you were sick

Hope you're feeling better <3

Are we still on for tomorrow?

**6:54 PM**

Hey

Yeah it's not anything major

Yeah, we're still on

Unless you wanted to cancel?

No, I don't!

Just wanted to check in

It's okay if you do

I don't though

Do you?

No

Okay cool

So I'll see you tomorrow

+++

**Friday, November 8, 7:12 PM**

_New message from: **Dingleberries**_

_[Mar]_

Did she show up yet?

No.

And I called her twice and texted once and no response

_[Tyler]_

Damn

_[Mar]_

Maybe something happened?

Her phone died on the way or something

_[Tyler]_

Or maybe it's something else?

She wasn't in school either, right?

No, not yesterday or today

But yesterday we said we'd still be on for today

_[Tyler]_

:/

Look I don't wanna worry you or anything but maybe it's a little more serious

Serious how?????

_[Mar]_

What???

_[Tyler]_

I just mean maybe she forgot or her mind was elsewhere 

Didn't you tell me she was really distracted with other bullshit

And is dealing with that 

But she was fine

I think

I mean she was really tired but I thought she was fine

We confirmed out plan and everything

_[Mar]_

She's probably just running late

_[Tyler]_

Yeah that's probably it

I'm sorry I'm an asshole

Ignore me

+++

**Friday, November 8, 7:23 PM**

_Chronomentrophobia_

_The fear of clocks_

_The fear of time_

_High as the cost of living_

_I take what I've been given_

_Pastor say "be strong"_

_Ooh hey hey_

_I ain't got time leave me alone_

_I ain't got much time left_

_I've got to funk you now_

_Chronomentrophobia_

Shay taps her phone against her thigh anxiously, almost dropping it when she feels it vibrate. She quickly brings it up to her face, only to slump in disappointment when she sees it’s the group chat again. _I'm sorry I'm an asshole. Ignore me_. She leans back against the wall of the movie theater, her neck and shoulders feeling tense from how tightly she’s holding her muscles. Her phone vibrates again and she almost doesn't want to look. She's not mad at her friends, but they're not exactly being helpful right now. Her stomach aches, and she wonders if she should just give it all up and go home already. 

Her phone vibrates again, a reminder to look at her messages. Shay watches a couple walk by, holding hands and laughing hysterically as they go. She tightens her jaw and unlocks her phone. It's from an unknown number.

_Hi Shay. This is Asia, Monique's cousin. I got your number from Zoya. I know you two are supposed to have a date now, but Monique's home sick and not feeling well. I know she's bad at answering her phone when she's ill, so I just wanted to let you know. Just in case. _

Shay stares at the message for a few minutes, her anxiety leaning more towards worry than anger. Shay jiggles her right leg against the wall of the theater, leaning completely on her left leg. Despite Asia being as vague as possible, Shay has a pretty good idea of what she means when she's saying that Monique is sick. A slow, dull feeling fills Shay’s stomach and she stares off into space. A hard knot fills her throat, and she can barely swallow past it. 

She has no idea what to do, now. A small part of her brain tells her to just go home, to forget about the date tonight and just wait for Monique to reach out to her first. Isn't that what Tyler's advice had been, to just wait until Monique was ready? To be patient? If she hadn't even wanted to - or been able to - respond to Shay's texts or call to cancel first, chances are she just really wants - or needs? - to be alone right now. Right? Cause if anything, she has her family. Asia said she was at home. So she really should just... leave it be. Give Monique space. 

She pulls her phone out, thumb hovering over the the messages app, chewing her bottom lip raw. She waits a few more moments, then makes a choice. 

+++

Shay jams her finger onto the bell door too many times to count, ignoring her Uber driving yelling at her to leave a good tip. Her heart races faster than the overlapping chimes of the bell, the noise dull through the door. She lifts her finger away from the bell finally, straining to hear footsteps inside of the house. 

“Shay?” 

The secondary, wooden door swings open, with Annie stands in the doorway. She looks tired, dark circles underneath her eyes and her dreads messily tossed underneath a kerchief. Shay takes a deep inhale, trying to calm herself down; she can bring herself to be nervous or apologetic about her frantic bell ringing. The Uber ride over had done nothing to assuage her worry about whether or not she was doing the right thing. 

“Ms Annie,” Shay says in a rush. “Sorry, but - Monique is - we were supposed to - I mean - can I come in?” 

Understanding dawns over Annie's face, and she lets out a small, soft noise. Shay stares at her through the metal swirls of the door, eyes tracking over all of the lines on her face.

“Monique’s… not feeling well today,” she says. 

“I know," Shay says. "But I was hoping to - that is to say - can I see her? She never showed up to our date. I just want to see if she's okay."

"I..." Annie pauses for a long moment, like she's trying to figure out what she wants to say.

"Please?" Shay tries. "I - I know that she's... it's her depression. Right?" 

That seems to solidify her words. 

"Sometimes... Monique has very bad days," Annie says. "Days where she doesn't want to see anyone, where she just barricades herself in her room. It's... like that, right now." 

Shay leans her forehead against the cool metal. “Okay. Okay.”

Annie sounds sympathetic. “I’m sorry she missed your date, honey. Sometimes it just happens.”

Shay lifts her head up, and for some reason, she fifeelslls her eyes filling with tears. Maybe it’s the way her emotions have been stretched to the limits, she thinks. But a smaller voice inside of her is saying that she should just leave, because what is she going to do? She can’t even… help her own mother, when she gets like this. How can she help Monique? What more does she think she can do than Monique's own family, especially when she's made it clear that she doesn't really want to talk to Shay about this stuff? She should just apologize and leave. 

When Shay opens her mouth though, something different slips out.

“I want to come in,” Shay asks. “To see her.”

Annie frowns gently. “Shay, I don't know how else to... There’s no… when she’s like this, she doesn’t usually want to see anyone, not even Sekou.”

Shay asks, “I'm gonna try anyway, Ms. Annie." 

MAnnie looks at Shay for a moment before nodding, unlocking the door and stepping back from the frame. Shay waits until she locks up again, toeing her shoes off in the foyer and hanging her coat up on the rack before following Annie up the stairs. Monique’s door is shut; Annie’s attempts to turn the knob are moot. 

“Monique?” Annie knocks gently. “Mo, Shay’s here.”

The answering silence is deafening. 

Annie knocks a little bit harder. “Shay’s here to see you, baby.”

There’s a long pause.

“Why?” Monique’s voice is thin, brittle. “Don’t bother.”

Shay frowns at the door, then glances up at Annie. Annie sighs, something that Shay feels deep in her chest. It’s the noise someone makes when they’re in pain because they can’t do anything to help, no matter how hard they’ve tried. It’s one that Shay knows intimately. 

Shay hesitates, knocking on the door herself.

“Monique?” she calls. “I - if you don’t want to see me, that’s okay, but… you know, I was really excited for our, uhm, date, and…”

She trails off, not sure where else to go from there. She stands on the landing, fidgeting slightly, waiting for some other sign of life from the other side of the door. When nothing happens for a long moment, Annie just squeezes her shoulder kindly.

“It’s probably best if you just go, honey,” Annie whispers. “Monique probably won’t be feeling up to company until tomorrow, maybe the day after.”

Shay bites on her lip. “Does this… happen a lot?”

Annie sighs. “I guess it depends on how you define a lot.”

“And you guys just leave her there?” Shay asks. “Alone?”

Annie says, “sometimes you can’t push someone until they’re ready.”

Shay looks up into her kind, dark eyes.

“Well,” Shay says slowly, “then, I’ll be here. When she is ready.”

Annie takes a breath like she’s about to say something else, but then closes her mouth. 

“Okay,” is all she says. “Okay.”

Shay waits until she shuffles back down the stairs and turns the corner. She moves to sit down in front of Monique’s door, leaning against the wall and pressing her head against the wallpaper. There’s not an ounce of light coming from the space between the door and the carpet, and Shay can’t even hear anything coming from inside the room. She sighs, closing her eyes for a moment.

“I know you don’t want to see anyone right now,” she says hesitantly, raising her voice so it will carry, “but I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

There’s no answering response.

“And I just want you to know that - that I’m not gonna pretend like I know what you’re going through, cause that would just be bullshit,” Shay says. “But - but you know, I spent a lot of time, a lot of time, over the years just holding everything inside and wishing everyone else would go away, and… and… well, then I met you. And…you helped me realize that… sometimes it’s better when you don’t push anyone away. And I just… want you to know… I’m here for you, and that I’m not ever gonna go away. If I have to sit here all night until you come out and let me take you to the movies, that’s what’s gonna happen."

Shay exhales deeply, trying not to let her feelings get hurt by a lack of a response. Instead, she wriggles around until she can pull her phone out of her pocket, settling in for the long haul. 

+++

**Saturday, November 9, 3:09 AM**

Shay blearily wakes up to the sound of a child who thinks she’s whispering but is actually doing a horrible job of it.

“Yeah, she’s still here,” Nichelle says. “I gave her my Doc McStuffins blanket so she wouldn’t get cold.”

Shay cracks her eyes open, her neck and back screaming in protest at the awkward angle. Her phone is on the floor next to her, and she must’ve fallen asleep sitting up. There’s some kind of soft, flannel blanket with a cartoon character all over it, but it’s clearly made for a child; her legs stick out from under the fabric. The landing is dark, but she sees the dim outlines of Nichelle and Asia, speaking through the door. She barely hears an answering response, but whatever it is makes Asia sigh.

“Maybe it’s because she really cares about you,” she says.

“She really, really must like you a lot,” Nichelle confirms. “To sleep on this dirty old floor just waiting for you to feel better.”

This time there’s no answering remark, because the silence stretches on. Nichelle presses her flat palms and her ear to the door as if trying to hear something else, but nothing comes. After a few minutes, Asia sighs, and puts her arm across Nichelle’s shoulders. 

“Come on,” Asia says. “You shouldn’t even be up at this hour, anyway.”

“I told you, I had to pee!” Nichelle says. “And I almost tripped over Shay! She has big feet!”

“Alright, alright,” Asia says. “Come on now, back to your own room.”

Shay watches Asia shuffle Nichelle down the hallway, neatly depositing the child back into a room with a beaded curtain hanging over the door, before turning and going into another bedroom. She closes the door behind her softly, not even noticing that Shay has been awake the entire time.

Shay stares out into the darkness of the hallway, then shifts so that she can stretch some of the muscles in her back. She groans softly at the ache of it, before trying to settle back against the wall. Just as she’s closing her eyes to try to go back to sleep, Monique’s door creaks open.

_Dirty computer, walk in line_

_If you look closer you'll recognize_

_I'm not that special_

_I'm broke inside_

_Crashing slowly, the bugs are in me_

_Dirty computer, breaking down_

_Picking my face up off the ground_

_I'll love you in this space in time_

_'Cause baby all I'll ever be_

_Is your dirty computer_

_Dirty computer_

Shay blinks up to see Monique peering down at her, her mouth drawn into a tight line. Her clothes are baggy and dark, and she has a black silk bonnet over her hair. Shay’s mouth goes dry and she tries to swallow, unsure of what to say. She watches as Monique’s eyes trail over her, a slight smile quirking at her mouth to see the blanket. Shay notices that Monique stands defensively in the doorway, her body stiff as they just look at each other.

“Hey,” Shay tries to whisper, her voice cracking. 

“You yelled at my mom,” Monique says in response.

Shay frowns. “No I didn’t!”

Monique’s eyes narrow. “You did.”

“I literally didn’t,” Shay says, defensively. “I’ve never even met your mom.”

“Yes, you did,” Monique says. “About an hour ago. She came home, came up to check on me, and saw you laying here. She tried to get you to move to the couch but you said, ‘I’m not fucking going anywhere, respectfully.’”

Shay squints back at her, embarrassment slowly sinking into her as she slowly starts to remember bits and pieces of her night on the floor. Children giggling as they raced past her, someone else asking if she was hungry, another voice telling her to move to the couch. 

“Oops,” Shay says, smiling sheepishly at Monique.

Monique doesn’t smile back, but she does move back and out of the door frame. Shay starts to sigh, thinking that Monique is just going to close the door in her face again. Instead, the door creaks wider, and Shay hears the sound of Monique shuffling back to her bed. Shay stays on the floor for a moment, her heart beating way too quickly.

“No street clothes in the bed,” Monique says tiredly. “I have some pajamas in the top drawer.” 

She swallows and gets up, wincing at the aches in her bones and muscles as she goes. She steps through the doorframe, gently grasping the knob in her hand behind her and shutting the door. 

+++

**Saturday, November 9, 7:36 AM**

“So you sleep with a bonnet on, huh?” Shay asks.

Monique glares at her; her eyes are the only strip of skin showing, between the blanket pulled up high and her bonnet slipping low over her eyebrows. 

“You have morning breath,” Monique says rudely.

Shay grins back at her. “Everyone has morning breath, it’s not a choice. Wearing a bonnet like an old ass lady though…”

She sees Monique’s eyes sparkle, like she’s trying not to laugh but isn’t doing a very good job. The room is still pretty dark, with none of the lights on and the blinds all shut pretty tightly. But a few filters of sunlight peak in, showing off the dust swirling through the air and the depths of Monique’s brown eyes. 

“Thank you,” Monique says like it hurts to speak. “For staying.”

“Of course,” Shay says automatically.

For some reason, it just makes Monique look more upset. Shay wiggles a little bit closer, their feet touching at the bottom of the bed. It’s through the blanket, and Shay still has her socks on, but somehow, it comforts Shay. 

“Don’t say that,” Monique says miserably. “Don’t say ‘of course,’ like it’s a given. It’s not.”

“It is to me -”

“That what everyone says,” Monique hisses. “It’s ‘I’m here for you,’ it’s ‘of course,’ it’s ‘you can always count on me,’ but what happens when all of that stops? When everyone just gets tired of me and - and my moods, and everyone gets bored and everyone just thinks I should just get over myself already, and then every ‘of course’ just turns into, ‘not anymore’?” 

Shay’s heart aches. “Monique -”

“I already see it with my friends, with my family,” Monique says bitterly. “They’ll never say it, but I can see it. How much this weighs on them, how much I take out of them.”

Shay says softly, “Maybe they’re happy to give it up for you.”

Monique’s face hardens for a moment, and then she shifts and turns on her other side. Shay stares at the hard, sad lines of Monique’s back, still cushioned underneath all of the blankets. She lays quietly for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Instead of saying anything, she shifts closer, almost spooning Monique and gently resting her palm against the flat of her back. Monique doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t shift away, either.

“Did… your mom say something?” Shay asks. “Sekou? Asia? Zoya? Or… me?”

“No one has to say anything,” Monique whispers. “I know how much of a burden I am. I know how stupid this is. I just…. I can’t…”

“You’re not a burden,” Shay says. “Even if you feel that way, it’s just -”

“Just my stupid brain tricking me?”

Shay frowns. “Your brain isn’t stupid, Monique.”

“No?” Monique asks. “Then why does this always happen? Why don’t I ever feel like I’m enough? Why can’t I be happy, why am I so… worthless? Useless? Why is it that when this is the one thing I pray Allah can give me an answer to, nothing changes?”

Shay shifts her hand so that her entire arm is wrapped around Monique, squeezing her to her tightly. She can feel tears pinprick at her lids, but refuses to let them go. She opens her mouth to speak, but is worried that she might cry instead.

“I even - I even started that stupid medication, but my brain is just so fucked up that - that it’s the same. The same thoughts.”

“But that’s okay,” Shay says softly. “You can try something else, sometimes meds just don’t work, and it’s not you -”

“But what if it is me?” Monique shakes. “What if I’m so fucked up that nothing can fix me? What if I’m just like this my entire life, this - this burden -”

“Hey,” Shay says. “Hey, hey, you’re not a -”

“I just know that if I was gone, it would just be better for everyone,” Monique says. “Yeah, people would be sad. But they could get over it. They could just… fill in the absence with anyone else. And they would be fine.”

“No,” Shay says softly. “No, we wouldn’t be.”

Monique doesn’t say anything.

“There are so many people who love you,” Shay says. “And I know… I know it’s easy to think that… that if you were just gone, everything would be okay, or that… that just because someone is here for you now, doesn’t mean that they’ll always be there. But I think… you know, that’s life, sometimes. And people leave but a lot of times… people stay. And they fight for you, and that continue to fight for you.”

“What happens when they don’t?” Monique whispers. “What happens when they stop?”

“Why does there have to be an ending?” Shay asks. “Maybe you can… just try to focus on things… as they happen. Instead of worrying about this… future that you’re imagining up.” 

Monique sniffs. “That’s not how it works.”

“Okay, maybe not, but we can try, right?”

“We?”

“Yeah,” Shay says. “Just take it step by step. Minute by minute. Maybe this minute sucks. And the next one does too. And the next one too. And the one after that. But then… like hundreds of minutes have passed and the worst of it is over. And you can just look back and think… I did that. I survived that. And… and then see, like, along the way, all the people who stayed with you. Who count on you, who love you.”

“But it hurts,” Monique says, a sob in her voice. “It hurts so much.”

Shay squeezes her tighter. “But you’re gonna hold on anyway.”

“Minute by minute?” Monique asks.

“Yeah,” Shay answers. “Yeah.” 

Monique turns again, her face wet with tears. She shoves her head underneath Shay’s neck, breathing hard and her whole body trembling. Gently, Shay unfurls Monique’s grip on the blanket and gets underneath it as well. Shay holds her tightly, feeling Monique’s body shake against hers as she cries. 

_ Baby, I love you; you are my life _

_ My happiest moments weren't complete if you weren't by my side _

_ You're my relation in connection to the sun _

_ With you next to me there's no darkness I can't overcome _

_ You are my raindrops, I am the seed _

_ With you and God who's the sunlight I bloom and grow so beautifully _

_ Baby, I'm so proud, proud to be your girl _

_ You make the confusion go all away from this cold and mixed-up world _

When Monique’s crying stops, they grip one another softly. Shay tries not to move, her neck itchy from dried, salty tears, and her pajama pants riding up uncomfortably. She simply strokes Monique’s back, the quiet lulling her to go back to sleep. 

“I’m just so scared,” Monique whispers after a long time, so low Shay barely heard the muttering. “I hate myself, and I’m… so scared.”

“Well,” Shay whispers back, “I’ll love you enough for both of us, for now.”

Monique snorts, something wet but hopeful. “You know that’s not like. How mental illness works. You can’t love me into being healthy.”

“Well, duh,” Shay says. “But… I’ll be here helping you fake it until you make it. And not just me. You have a whole crew.”

Monique pauses for a long time. “What if I don’t make it?”

“But you’ve already made it this far,” Shay says. “And by the end of this sentence, you’ll have made it another minute.”

She feels Monique’s smile, tentative and small. But it’s there, Shay thinks; it’s there. 

_ I am in love with you (in love) _

_ You set me free _

_ I can't do this thing called life without you here with me _

_ 'Cause I'm dangerously in love with you _

_ I'll never leave _

_ Just keep lovin' me the way I love you loving me _

+++


	9. Getting Back to It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder for [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4XWEfhgjaeWfyFsaLCuZwi)! 
> 
> Also - sorry this was late too, lol. I can say for certain the next (and last! omg1) chapter won't be posted this weekend, but definitely will be posted before Thanksgiving. Sorry for the delays - it's grind time in the semester so I've had to put off editing, and in the cast of chapter ten, some writing. 
> 
> But I can't believe we're almost done! It's been a loooooong journey. Thanks for coming on it with me :)

**+++**

**Saturday, November 9, 11:11 AM**

_ Fall onto the ground _

_ Do not make a sound _

_ Can we be like children _

_ Dancing in the crowd _

_ Fall onto the ground _

_ Do not make a sound _

_ Can we _

_ Can we _

_ Can we be like children _

_ Dancing in the crowd _

Shay wakes up to the smell of turkey bacon and laughter. She rubs her eyes. As she sits up, a spark of panic going through her when she doesn’t see Monique. She pushes the comforter away and looks around the room. Her eyes land on a small Polaroid photo haphazardly taped to the back fo Monique’s door, just slightly ajar. She gets up, peering at it as she finally pulls out the wedgie that had been bothering her all night.

It’s a photo of her sleeping, completely gracelessly. Her mouth is open and the light has caught on some drool coming out of her mouth. There’s a giant red arrow drawn across the top of the photo. Shay pulls it from the door and turns it over to see a scrawled message.

_ Spare toothbrushes in bathroom. 2 doors down. Breakfast informal. Xoxo. _

She smiles, sticking the photo back onto the back of the door. 

She pads over to the bathroom, the door wide open. The walls are painted blue and there seashell themed decorations everywhere she looks, the faint smell of salt coming from somewhere. Shay peers at all the hair products, lotions, and body washes littering the tub and sink, most of them looking like honey-based products. She finds a package of unopened toothbrushes in the cabinet above the sink, although all of them are Spongebob themed. 

Shay snorts at them before closing the cabinet, her eyes catching on her reflection in the mirror. Her face looks tired but peaceful, as if the little sleep she did get was good enough to refresh her. She grabs the tube of toothpaste and squeeze some on her brush mindlessly. She almost gags in surprise, before laughing around the brush; the toothpaste is coconut flavored. 

After scrubbing her teeth and tongue and rinsing out her mouth, Shay peers back at the mirror again for a long pause. She smiles at herself, testing it out a bit. It feels good, she thinks; somewhere inside of her, she feels more settled than she has been in a long time. Even with everything that's happened, and everything that she knows is coming up... she sighs softly at herself. Her reflection stares at her back, the gaze somehow both kinder and stronger than it would've been weeks ago. 

_ Dig if you will the picture _

_ Of you and I engaged in a kiss _

_ The sweat of your body covers me _

_ Can you my darling _

_ Can you picture this? _

_ Dream, if you can, a courtyard _

_ An ocean of violets in bloom _

_ Animals strike curious poses _

_ They feel the heat _

_ The heat between me and you _

Shay peers around the corner of the kitchen to see Monique sitting at the table while Asia grips her shoulders passionately. She has a wooden spoon in one hand, using it as a fake microphone. Someone’s phone is connected into a portable speaker, the song blasting. The kitchen table is already filled with breakfast foods, including French toast, scrambled eggs, and grits. 

“How can you just leave me standing? Alone in a world that's so cold, so cold,” Asia sings soulfully and off-key as she dramatically twists away from Monique. “Maybe I'm just too demanding, maybe I'm just like my father, too bold.”

Shay slips into the kitchen, voice loud. “Maybe you're just like my mother, she's never satisfied.”

Asia turns without missing a beat. She throws her hand out and Shay grabs into it, letting herself be propelled into the middle of the kitchen as they all finish the lyric.

“Why do we scream at each other? This is what it sounds like when doves cry!”

Monique stares at them singing and dancing around her with the slightest hint of a smile on her lips. Shay reaches out to her, trying to pull her up to sing with them. Her smiles pulls up slightly but she shakes her head no. Shay twirls away instead of pushing it, Asia swinging her around by the waist.

A few moments later, Shay’s so busy swirling and singing that she misses it when the background song lowers sharply in volume, causing her to trip into the table.

“And what do any of y’all know about some Prince, huh?” an amused voice says somewhere to her left.

Shay looks up to see an older Black woman with her hair in rollers standing near the speaker, one eyebrow raised up.

Asia smiles at her. “I guess someone just raised us right.”

“Mmhmm,” the woman says, before peering over at Shay. “Hmph.”

Shay feels her face coloring, recognizing Monique’s eyebrows and nose on this woman’s face. As Monique snickers, Asia turns towards the stove, flipping over the turkey bacon. 

“Auntie, this is Shay,” Asia says. “Shay, this is my aunt, Pearl.”

“Nice - nice to meet you, Ms. Pearl,” Shay tries not to squeak.

“We already met last night,” Pearl says, giving Shay a look up and down, “but it’s good to see you up.”

Monique rolls her eyes. “Mom!”

Pearl breaks out into a grin. “Y’all know I’m just messing with her. The first girl you bring home, and I can’t even have a little fun?”

“No!”

Pearl points her finger at Monique. “Only cause you had a rough night am I letting you get away with this. Mhhm.”

“I’m - you know, I’m really sorry about last night,” Shay tries to say. “I don’t even really remem -”

“This is the first time in years that Monique’s been down for breakfast after a rough night,” Pearl cuts her off. “You can save alla your apologies if you can make that happen again.”

Monique’s voice pitches. “Mom!”

“I’m just saying, the way you talk about her, she’s gonna be around for a long time so she might as well know the business,” Pearl says. “Or whatever it is y’all say. Spill the tea?”

Monique groans and Shay has to turn her face away to keep from laughing. Pearl moves over to Monique, dropping a kiss on her forehead and gently squeezing her around the shoulder. Monique sighs, leaning into the one-armed hug. 

“Anyway, Asia, come with me,” Pearl says as she steps away. “Come help me set the dining room table and get alla them cousins of yours to sit and eat.” 

Asia presses her lips together like she’s trying not to laugh, and passes her spatula off to Shay. She follows Pearl out of the room and Monique sighs, something that sounds like an exasperated laugh. Shay peeks at her as she moves over to the stove, scooping the bacon out of the frying pan and onto a nearby plate already piled high with meat. Monique looks tired, especially around her eyes. Soemthing about her seems more relaxed as well though, like she’s okay just sitting with herself.

Shay turns the burner off and moves to put the plate of bacon on the crowded kitchen table. She hesitates, hovering near the table but not sitting down. She’s not sure what to say; she feels as though asking Monique how she’s feeling is just stupid, after the night they’ve had. She's also slightly worried about crowding her too much, her mind still sensitive over not wanting to baby her. Monique looks up at her, her lips slightly parted.

“You wanna make some plates and eat outside?” Monique says. 

“Sure,” Shay says.

They end up on some plastic lawn chairs, sitting in a patch of sun near the back of the house. Even though it’s not super cold out, Shay can feel the chill and wetness of the morning dew through her pajama pants. Shay watches Monique lifts her cup to her mouth, and makes a choice. 

“You seem...” Shay pauses, trying to find the right words. “Not as fucked up.”

Monique spits out the orange juice that she had just taken a large gulp of. It mostly lands on the grass in front of them, but some of it dribbles down Monique’s chin and onto her jacket. She turns and stares at Shay in surprise. Shay just smiles back at her as serenely as possible.

“You never stop surprising me,” Monique coughs out.

Shay shrugs back at her, still smiling. Monique knocks her shoulder against Shay’s. 

“For the record, I feel… not as fucked up,” Monique says. “You being here… it helped.”

“I’m glad,” Shay says.

“Sometimes it’s worse than that, though,” Monique says. “Sometimes...” 

“We can work through that when it happens,” Shay says softly.

Monique takes a deep inhale, not answering for a minute. “Yeah, okay.”

“Did something…” Shay winces. “I’m sorry, I don’t know, did something… trigger it?”

Monique looks down at her plate. “I don’t know. I guess just stress. Like… the photos stuff, and the meds, and I skipped my therapist appointment last week, and I just… sometime it comes all at once, and sometimes it creeps up on me. And there’s… like, it’s not your fault, but...”

Shay swallows hard. “But?”

Monique glances at her. “But sometimes like… I don’t know, I get in my head about people acting… different around me. You know? Like… I know Zoya means well but she kept pestering me about talking and stuff, and I didn’t want to. Or like, in the bowling alley… like I know Sekou must’ve said something to you about me having a bad week -”

“No, he didn’t,” Shay tries to jump in.

“ - Cause you both came in all weird, and then you didn’t say anything to me about it, so like...” Monique sighs. “I just… I barely want to deal with me sometimes, you know? So I just… like I feel like, why would anyone else?”

Shay curses softly. “Fuck, Monique, that wasn’t…”

“It’s fine,” Monique says, a bit unconvincingly. “I know he probably just meant well, like, he’s my best friend. But -”

“That’s not it, like, at all,” Shay interrupts her. “I - like we did talk about you a little, but not about you… having a bad week. He told me about the first time you saw me.”

“He - what?”

“Yeah,” Shay nudges her with her knee. “I didn’t know you were like, an actual groupie.”

Monique groans. “Shut up.”

Shay thinks that her embarrassed face is so cute that she has no other choice but to lean over and kiss her softly. Monique tastes like orange juice and eggs and coconut toothpaste. 

“No,” Shay says when they pull apart. “It’s… okay. When we were outside, this white woman she like, was profiling us.”

“What?”

“She worked at the bowling alley,” Shay says. “And she was like, accusing us of trying to steal the shoes or something. It was… it was… annoying. And anyway, Sekou didn’t want to say anything cause, okay, well, yeah he was worried about you but also Zoya. He said he didn’t want to talk about it and make y’all worry when nothing really happened, just… So, we… didn’t.”

Monique’s face groans concerned. “Fuck, what? Are you okay?”

Shay shrugs. “It’s - it’s not a big deal -“

“Yes it is,” Monique says. “I’m so sorry. Yes it is.”

“I -” Shay takes a slow, deep breath. “You’re right. It is.”

Monique sighs. “That’s just like Sekou. He never wants to ruin the moment, or whatever. I’m just glad you guys didn’t get hurt.”

“Yeah,” Shay says.

“But why didn’t you tell me afterwards?” Monique says. 

“I… guess I didn’t really want to think about it,” Shay says. “I was angry, embarrassed…”

“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about,” Monique says quickly.

“No, I know, but that didn’t… stop me from feeling that way,” Shay says. “And it was also… it was so new, I didn’t know how to handle it. You know? I’m used to white women wanting to touch my hair or like, them looking at me extra hard in the grocery store or whatever. But this was different, it was like she…”

“Like she?”

“It was the first time in a long time that I started to think that maybe everything they say about Black people, about queer women, was true,” Shay says after a beat. “Or… maybe not that it’s true, but that it’s true in so many people’s minds, if that makes sense. That we’re dangerous, that we’re… predators… I dont know. Maybe it sounds stupid, but especially being with Sekou for it..."

Monique sighs unhappily. “I’m really sorry, Shay.”

“And I guess… I didn’t really know how to talk about it, I still don’t really, I guess,” Shay says. “I’m… not super mad anymore, I talked about it with my friend Diana, she’s also like, a Black stud. But… yeah. I guess it was that. But…”

“But?”

Shay winces. “Maybe it was also a little that I knew you weren’t feeling well. I didn’t want to dump that on you…”

Monique sighs. “See? That’s what I mean about - about burdening everyone. You should just - I mean if you want, you should talk to me about this stuff -”

“Pot, meet kettle?” Shay says.

“It’s different,” Monique insists. 

“How?” Shay asks her earnestly. “How is it different?”

“It’s like - you’re not telling me stuff because you don’t want to burden me, but you’re only not telling me things because I’m already, uhm, burdening you, so I’m holding it in so that I don’t continue to…” 

Monique trails off, scrunching her eyebrows up slightly like she’s trying to figure out her own logic. Shay tries to hold in the laughter bubbling up inside of her, because she knows this is a serious conversation. But a small giggle slips past her lips like a hiccup, and then suddenly Monique is laughing too.

“Look, I know what I mean,” Monique chuckles wryly. “I - okay, maybe it’s just us just like… being foolish all around. And just… being scared and insecure. Or something. I don’t know. I’m tired and I had a rough week.”

“Tell me about it,” Shay says. “I slept on the floor -”

“You did that to yourself,” Monique grins.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Shay says.

They both pause for a beat. 

Monique’s smile turns softer. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, you tell me your shit and I’ll tell you mine,” Monique says. “Or - you know. I’ll work on it. Actually putting everything my therapist tells me into action, or whatever. She’ll be thrilled.”

Shay says, “Okay. Me too. And… you know, we don’t have to figure everything out right now.”

“Yeah,” Monique says, then pauses for a long moment. “So…”

“So?” 

“So I guess you’re in it for the long haul,” Monique says. 

It sounds like a joke, but there’s also something hesitant underneath it. Shay turns to look at her, eyes dragging down the details of Monique’s face. Her septum ring is slightly askew, her headscarf isn’t as tightly secured as it usually is, and there are still circles under her eyes. But her gaze is focused right back on Shay, steady and waiting for her answer. Her mind goes back to the conversation with Diana and Tyler, just a few days ago. A slow, slick smile stretches across her face.

Monique's eyes narrow playfully. "What? What is that look?" 

"I don't have a look!"

Monique jabs at the corner of her mouth. "Yes you do."

“It's not a look!" Shay teases her. "I guess I'm just trying to figure out if you're trying to ask me if I wanna be your girlfriend...?” 

"What?"

"Well, are you?" 

“I can’t stand you,” Monique says instead of answering, a grin playing on her face.

“Oooooh,” Shay singsongs. “‘Do you like me? Check yes, no, or maybe.’”

“Forget it,” Monique throws her hands up. “Forget it.”

“I think that’s a yes,” Shay grins.

Monique pokes her. “For the record, I thought we were already girlfriends.”

Shay has to laugh. “Oh yeah? Since when?”

“Since the farmer’s market!”

“Are you serious?” Shay sputters. 

“Yeah!” Monique looks affronted. “What, did you think this was just casual?”

“Well, no, but you never said - we never said -” 

Monique laughs right in her face. “You should see the look you got on your face, girl.”

“I can’t stand you,” Shay says back to her, grinning.

Monique beams. “Liar.”

The moment turns quiet as they just sit together, basking in the warm sunlight. Shay can hear Monique’s little cousins running around inside of the house, already at full energy and blasting something from the Disney channel. 

Shay asks, “What do we have planned for the rest of the day?”

“We?”

“Hell yeah,” Shay says. “And don’t say homework.”

Monique laughs. “I mean… I do have to play catch up on all the work I missed again. I was also thinking about guilting Sekou into bringing me ice cream, you know, since he lied to me and since I’m too depressed to leave the house.”

Shay chokes. “Monique!”

Monique widens her eyes innocently. “What? I am too depressed to leave the house!”

“Uh huh,” Shy grins.

“Seriously though,” Monique says after a moment. “Today… it will probably be hard. It’s hard right now. But I'm... you don't have to sit here with me all day. You can go home, do your own thing.”

"Okay."

"Okay?" Monique sounds slightly disappointed.

"Okay," Shay nods. “You guilt Sekou into bringing us ice cream, but instead of doing homework, we just… hmm. We built a blanket fort and watched movies on your laptop all day?” 

Monique’s smile turns up. “That would be fun, but we’d have to let Nichelle and my cousins help us.”

“Of course,” Shay says seriously. “This is a family effort.”

Monique runs her index finger across her empty plate, clearing a line through the syrup there. She smiles down at her plate, and Shay’s heart sings to see it.

“Let’s do it,” she says. 

_ I just want you close _

_ Where you can stay forever _

_ You can be sure _

_ That it will only get better _

_ You and me together _

_ Through the days and nights _

_ I don't worry 'cause _

_ Everything's gonna be alright _

_ People keep talking, they can say what they like _

_ But all I know is everything's gonna be alright _

+++

**Saturday, November 9, 9:12 PM **

_New message from: **Dingleberries**_

_[Tyler]_

What are you DOING on Sekou's story???

????????????????????????????????

Why do you follow Sekou on Insta????????

_[Tyler]_

He’s your girlfriend's best friend 

Are you spying on me????

_[Tyler]_

What does that mean

No 

Why tf would you have to follow him for being Monique's best friend 

_[Tyler]_

It's like, my duty as your best friend 

Dingus

_[Mar]_

I'm Shay's best friend not you

_[Tyler]_

No, if you were Shay's best friend you would've been followed Monique's friends 

But you haven't 

So.

...........anyway

wtf 

We just decided today to be official????

Seriously ARE you spying on me?

_[Tyler]_

First of all no I'm not spying on you, way to be self-centered

Also second of all way to be a horrible best friend and not tell us

Third of all y'all been girlfriends so 

_[Mar]_

He's right you know

Why don't you both suck my nuts

_[Tyler]_

Rude

We're happy for you btw

_[Mar]_

Yeah :) 

I'm glad she makes you so happy

And that it worked out

Ugh gross

<3

+++

**Sunday, November 10, 5:08 PM**

_ There are times _

_ When I look above _

_ And beyond _

_ There are times when I feel your love _

_ Around me baby _

_ I'll never forget my baby _

_ (I'll never forget you) _

Mrs. Frazier and her mom are laughing over a pot of tea when Shay stumbles into the kitchen, still half asleep. She yawns, reaching up to pull her headscarf off and shoves it into the pocket of her sweats. The stereo is playing at a regular decibel, and Shay’s heart warms a bit at the care that her mom put into not waking her up, even though it’s just about damn dinnertime. 

“The prodigal daughter rises!” Her mom cackles.

Mrs. Frazier gently swats at her arm. “Oh, you leave that girl alone, she should still be sleeping! These kids are so stressed these days, why, Marlon has red eyes all the time from the lack of sleep he gets!”

Shay chokes on her own spit, catching a glimpse of the knowing, humored looks Mrs. Frazier and her mother throw at each other. It’s obvious neither of them think Marlon’s red eyes come from lack of sleep, and it makes Shay grins to herself at catching the small moment between their moms. 

“Can I have some?” Shay asks, gesturing towards the tea.

Her mom smiles at her warmly and starts to pour her a cup. Shay pulls out the chair closest to her, reaching over to grab the honey.

“Oh, Shay we were just talking about those cute little turkeys you and Marlon made that one year for Thanksgiving,” Mrs. Frazier says. “The ones from your hands? And you got so mad that Marlon’s were bigger than yours!”

Shay smiles tiredly. “I remember.”

Her mom says, “Honey, are you okay? You’re not getting sick, are you?”

“No,” Shay says. “I’m just really tired. It’s been a long weekend.” 

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Frazier says. “That’s exactly what I mean! Weekends should be for sleeping in, for relaxing, for -” 

“Going to church,” her mom says with a slight cough.

“Uhm, oh yes, that too,” Mrs. Frazier says. “Spending time with your loved ones.”

“Right,” Shay says. 

“Oh, but that reminds me, I'm coming to the walk-out,” Mrs. Frazier says. “Me and Marlon’s dad, of course.”

Shay smiles. “That’s awesome.”

“We’re gonna bring some water bottles and some snacks for everyone,” Mrs. Frazier says. “Your mom did some research -”

“She did?”

Her mother gives her a look. “I do know how to operate a computer, Shay.”

“ - And some of those protest tips said to make sure to bring water and food and stuff, so we’ll be sure to all bring some,” Mrs. Frazier says. “Oh, we’re all so proud of you!”

”Thanks,” Shay grins back.

“And you know, this is the right time to do it too,” Mrs. Frazier says, half standing as she launches into a speech. “You’re all young, and you cannot let this world step on you and beat you down! You gotta punch it right in the balls and say, ‘I’m here! And I ain’t going nowhere!’”

Shay and her mom exchange a bemused look that says, _ white people_. Mrs. Frazier seems to realize she's standing up, and makes a small noise before settling back into her chair. 

“Right,” Shay says. 

“But anyway, how are your applications going?” Mrs. Frazier asks. “For college?”

“Uhm…” Shay refuses to look at her mom. “Well, you know, I’m pretty much just applying to State. Close to home, all that stuff.”

“Do they even have a music program?” Mrs. Frazier frowns. “Or were you thinking of studying something else?”

Shay winces. “Well, honestly I’m not sure what I want to study. I barely… know what I want for dinner.” 

Mrs. Frazier laughs. “Well, of course that’s okay too. The world is your oyster and all that jazz.”

A phone starts vibrating on the table, and Mrs. Frazier leans over to look at it. She sighs for a moment before picking it up.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” Mrs. Frazier says. “I’ll try to be quick but then we can head to the community center?” 

She gets up from the table, already speaking into the phone. Shay watches as she moves down into the hallway, absent-mindedly grabbing a cinnamon bun off the table.

“Mrs. Frazier is driving you?” she asks as she chews. “Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” her mother hums, sipping her tea. “I’m feeling fine. We’re just carpooling.”

“Oh, okay,” Shay says. “That’s nice.”

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about, too,” her mother says. “It’s about… church.”

Shay’s stomach knots immediately, though her mother’s tone doesn’t sound forbearing or anything like that. It feels more like instinct than anything she actually feels. Her mother is staring at her intently though, as if she’s trying to gauge Shay’s reaction before even saying anything. 

“Church?” She asks hesitantly. 

“Yes,” her mother says.

“Okay…”

Her mother pauses so long that Shay wonders if she should say something more to prompt her.

“The congregation is very diverse,” is what comes out of her mother’s mouth.

Shay’s not sure what to say to that. Honestly, it sounds like a bizarre statement to make. In her experience, nothing’s really as segregated as Southern churches. Her mom looks up and must catch the confused look on her face, because she seems to swallow down a laugh before sobering up. 

“You know, people of all races, but more than that,” she says hesitantly. “You know, people of all ages, all sexualities and, uh, genders.”

Shay’s speechless. “Oh.”

“There’s even a… what is it call… gay straight allyship club?”

“Gay Straight Alliance?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” her mom says. “They do a Bible study once a week, host some programming too.”

“In the church?”

“Yes,” her mother says. “It’s… progressive. A nice pace from… some of the other churches I’ve been to. And you know, I think a number of members also go to your high school.” 

“Right.”

“The pastor is also a woman,” her mother says. “Puts the most welcoming signs up on the marque every week.” 

Shay takes a huge bite of her cinnamon bun in lieu of saying anything. Her mother gives her a pointed look, like she knows exactly what Shay is doing. 

“I would like you to come with me to a service,” her mother finally says bluntly. “It doesn’t have to be next Sunday, but in the next few weeks. I know you ain’t got no love for the church, but I also want you to see that there are many people who worship to preach love and acceptance, not hate and - and homophobia.”

Shay swallows. “Okay.”

“And I understand why you’re saying no,” her mother continues, “but I think it can help too. Faith in the Lord can give you strength, even if it seems like all is lost, and it can be healing, too. Maybe not in the way that you want it to be, but I think it’s always in the way you need it to be.”

“Right,” Shay says. “I said ‘okay.’”

“It’s like in Mark, chapter nine, “Jesus said to him, ‘If you can believe, all things are possible to him who believes,’” her mother says. “And -”

“Ma?” Shay interrupts loudly.

“I - hmm?”

“I already said okay. As in yes, as in, I’ll go with you,” Shay says. “I actually… you know, was thinking about that… anyway.”

“Oh,” her mother stares at Shay like she’s never seen her before. “Oh.” 

“Why are you more surprised at this then at me coming out to you?”

“I -” her mother seems lost for words, and then says the only thing she always says in times like this. “Shayla Krystal!”

“Donna Angela!” Shay shoots back.

Her mom startles. “I swear, you sounded just like your daddy just then...”

Shay smiles at that; her mom reaches over and gently clasps her hand.

“But… okay. I’m glad. And we can leave any time, we don’t have to stay for the whole service,” her mom says.

“Alright,” Shay says.

“What…” her mother peers at her curiously. “Is there something that changed to make you… want to go again? Me and your father?”

Shay flushes for a moment. “I mean, that was part of it, but…”

Her mother’s face suddenly turns coy. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“So it was someone who got you thinking about faith again,” her mother grins suddenly. “Maybe… a real special someone?”

“Ma!”

“What’s her name?” her mother asks, the smile stretching wide across her face.

“No one!”

“Uh huh,” her mother says. “So it’s no one who got you blushing like that.”

“I - ugh,” Shay tries not to grin back, feeling incredibly silly and only a little awkward. If anyone had told them she'd be talking about girls with her mother a few weeks ago, she'd have punched them in the guts.

"Ugh?"

“She’s… a new girl in my class. Her name is Monique.”

“This Monique got a last name?”

Shay narrows her eyes. “Why? So you can try to look her up on Facebook!”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” her mother sighs, then squints. “Wait, is this Monique… that girl who left you that photograph? With the kissing and the aliens?”

Shay’s eyes bug out. “Dad told you about that?”

Her mother looks surprised. “Of course he did. He’s my best friend. We tell each other everything.”

Shay’s heart melts even as she says, “Gross.”

Her mother rolls her eyes. “So, is this Monique the ‘friend’ who’s house you stayed over all weekend with? Mhhmm.”

“Nothing happened!” Shay says quickly. “Nothing like… you know. Like that.”

“And so when do I get to meet this Monique?”

“Stop saying ‘this Monique,’” Shay mutters.

“Shayla -”

“I don’t know! Ma!” Shay buries her face in her hands. “Oh my God.”

“Oh, so you can meet her family and stay over all weekend but I can’t meet her?” her mother makes a ‘harrumphing’ noise. “I’m assuming we’ll be too busy at the protest for proper introductions.”

Shay speaks before her brain can catch up with her mouth. “Maybe next week? Okay?”

Her mother smiles like the Cheshire Cat. “Or at church, maybe? Since she’s the one who got you all spiritual again.”

Shay tries not to choke on her own tongue. “At church.”

“Why not?”

Shay hesitates, rubbing at the back of her head. “Well… uhm… you see?”

“I don’t, really.”

“She’s… uhm…” Shay winces. “Sort of… not… Christian?”

Her mother looks frozen for a moment. “An atheist got you back into God?”

“No!” Shay says. “No, she’s… Muslim?”

“Muslim.”

“Yeah,” Shay says. “She’s… uhm… like really Muslim.”

“Really Muslim.”

“Yeah, like she… wears the hijab and doesn’t drink, and stuff,” Shay says. 

“Oh,” her mother says faintly. “Oh. Well.”

“Well.”

“That’s…” her mother nods along, like she’s trying to find the right words. “You know, surprising.”

“Yeah…”

“But…” her mother looks slightly uncomfortable, but pushes on. “But, you know, if you like her, that’s really all that matters, isn’t it?”

“It is?” 

“And anyway, at least she believes in God, and He’s all the same, you know, no matter what you call Him, God, Yahweh, Allah, you know.”

Shay has to ask, “Are you having some kind of episode?”

“What?” her mother gives her a look. “I’m just saying, you know, if this girl can get you going back to church and has you… talking to us and sharing with us, then I, frankly, don’t care what what language she prays in or how many times a day she does it!”

“Uhm -”

“And she’s... devout you say?” her mother’s face slowly becomes more and more relaxed. “Dresses modestly, doesn’t drink? Now that’s a good girl, right there. I bet she’s smart too. And cute!”

Shay says, bewildered, “she is.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet her,” her mother says. “Though…”

“Though?”

“Is she…” her mother pauses. “You know. You said her name is Monique…”

“It is?”

“And… you know, there are… some heritage groups that… traditionally… use that name…”

Shay squints at her for a moment. “Are you trying to ask me if she’s Black or not?”

“I’m just curious!” her mother says quickly. “You know, I got nothing against white folks or our other brothers and sisters of color, but you know, some… people don’t really like us, and it’s not just one group, it’s a worldwide -”

“Ma, she’s Black!” Shay finally interrupts her. “Jeeze.”

“Oh thank Jesus,” her mother breathes out.

“Ma!”

“Honey, I’m just saying, I mean, when there’s a slur word for Black folk in every language in the world -”

“So her being a girl and her being Muslim, no big thing, but her not being Black, that’s what I gotta worry about?”

“Lord, this child is testing me today,” her mother says. “Shay, I just worry about you, is it. You could date someone Black, white, brown, green, purple - I just want you to be happy.”

“Green and purple people don’t actually exist,” Shay says. “It’s important to me that you know that -”

“Anyway,” her mother says loudly over her, “I was also thinking that next week, you and I could go to the mall to buy you some new clothing.” 

Shay’s eyebrows go up at the rapid change in conversation, but she lets it slide. “What?”

“I have eyes,” her mother says. “And it seems like… some of your old stuff doesn’t match what you… what you like. So maybe we can go get more things that are… you.”

Shay can barely get the word out. “Really?”

“You can’t keep wearing the same pair of grey sweatpants to school,” her mother says, a smile playing around her lips. “Plus, with you going off to school next year, might as well start building up your new wardrobe now. Oh, now that I think of it, we should go on Black Friday for them sales.”

“I’d like that,” Shay stutters, then pauses. “But, Ma…”

“Shay?”

Shay glances away. “Ma, look, I know you want to talk about it, but… I’m not going away to school, okay?”

“And why not?”

She shrugs. “I can’t leave you here alone.”

“I’m not alone,” her mother says. “And I’m also a grown woman. I can handle myself.” 

Shay tries to joke, “But - okay, but what about the Bible? Uhm - uhm, that book when they left Egypt and got all those rules?”

Her mother furrows her brow. “You mean Exodus?”

“Yeah,” Shay says. “You know, uhm, honor your mother and father.”

A soft ‘oh’ comes out of her mother’s mouth. “'Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be long upon the land which the Lord your God is giving you.'”

“How can I do that when I’m hundreds of miles away?” Shay asks. 

Her mother closes her eyes briefly. “Shay, it’s honor your mother and father, not babysit them.”

Shay doesn’t know how to answer that without being disrespectful so she says, “Maybe I don’t want to leave Austin.”

Her mother’s eyes soften. “Shay… I’m not your responsibility. It’s no child’s responsibility to take care of their parent.”

Shay takes a deep breath, reminding herself that she’s been honest so far, and maybe it’s time for her to be honest again.

“If that’s the truth then… then why have I always had to take care of you?” Shay says. “I - you know, I don’t mind, not really. Sometimes it sucks, but… you’re my mom. And I’d rather stay here and do that then move away and feel like I’m being a bad daughter, or I’m - I’m not doing what I should be doing.”

Her mother doesn’t say anything for a long time. “I didn’t realize... “

“Ma?”

“I should’ve seen it,” her mother says. “And I knew it was hard on you, especially with your father gone, but I tried… I tried so hard to keep you from feeling like you were burdened with me…”

“I’m not,” Shay says quickly. “You’re not a burden.”

Her mother squeezes her hand. “Shay… you should never have to put me first. If you truly want to stay here, alright. I’ll support you no matter where you choose to go. But don’t waste your potential when you could go far just because you’re worried about who’s gonna pass me my meds or who will cook dinner when I can’t.”

“I’m not, Ma,” Shay says. “I’m not.”

“Then will you promise me to at least apply to a few schools out of state?” she asks.

Her gaze is so intense that it startles Shay for a moment; she finds herself nodding along, trying to understand the whirlwind of emotions that’s happening inside of her heart.

“I promise,” she says softly.

“And - and everything else, we’ll work it out,” her mother says. “But don’t - don’t you ever hold yourself back because you’re worried about someone else, Shayla Krystal. Don’t you ever do that. Not about this, not about anything. You hear me?”

Her mother looks at her fiercely for a long moment, and Shay wonders what she sees in her face. All Shay can really see is her own dark eyes reflected back at her, filled with determination. Shay stares back at her, a bit shocked at the level of passion in her mother’s voice. Slowly, it fades back into something else, something that feels entirely new. Something like warmth and maybe even hope. She takes a deep breath.

“Yes, Ma,” she says, “I hear you.” 

Before either of them can say anything more, Mrs. Frazier comes back into the room, putting her phone back in her pocket.

“Sorry about that, Donna,” she says. “You all ready to go?”

Shay smiles at her mom, giving her a small nod. Her mother squeezes her hand.

“Yes,” her mother says. “We are.”

+++

**Sunday, November 11, 8:58 PM  
**

_New message from:_ **_**Monique Cleaver**_**

My mom wants to meet you

Really? :)

Yeah and she's excited that you're black

LMAO

I'll tell you about it tomorrow

Will you be in school?

Ugh

Yeah. I'm missing way too many days so I have to

Well I'm happy I get to see you

Me too :)

**11:34 PM**

Shay?

Thank you again

Seriously

<3

+++

**Tuesday, November 12, 12:42 PM**

“Alright, so we’re all approved for Friday,” Kelsey says, looking over the checklist on her phone. “Zoya and Grace will get the posters of the photographs Thursday night. We attend school Friday like it’s business and usual, and then at exactly 2:30, we all get up and walk out of our classrooms.”

“Too bad it’s not happening in the morning,” Shay mutters. “Would’ve loved to see Anderson’s stank ass face as we leave.”

She’s sitting between Marlon and Zoya, with Monique directly across from her in the cafeteria. Somehow, their lunch table has morphed into a blob of about fifteen people, leaning in closely so that no one can overhear what’s happening. She belatedly wonders why none of teachers who monitor lunch have come over to see what they’re doing because in her mind, it looks super sketchy. 

Zoya cackles and says, “My plan is to stand right in the center so that I can stare him in his ugly face as he has to read his stupid comment about harems.”

“A number of parents and older family members have agreed to set up the posters around the front entrance around 2:15, so they should be all set and ready to go by the time we get out there,” Kelsey says. “And remember, we’re doing a mostly silent walk-out. That means don’t say anything to anyone when you get up or when you’re outside. Got it?”

There’s a small chorus of agreement. 

“And remember to spread everything by mouth,” Kelsey says.

“That’s totally what she said,” Jo pipes in.

Kelesy’s mouth puckers and she shakes her head at Jo. “Jo.”

Jo rolls her eyes. “I know, I know! Social media is great for spreading things but not this. We want it to be kept away from the sight of the administrators until it happens, blah blah blah.”

“Wasn’t it your idea to not put everything on social media?” Megan teases her.

“Shush,” Jo smiles.

Kelsey looks back down at her checklist. “Okay. Now… Marlon, Tyler, Shay, how’s the song coming?”

Marlon says, “It’s pretty much done, all we have to do is record it.”

“Cool,” Jo says. “Just make sure you send me the file before Friday. My older siblings are getting the stereo equipment. Same place that did my quince is loaning everything to us for a discount.”

Shay frowns for a moment. “Speaking of… who’s paying for all this? The posters, the stereos…?”

Jo and Grace exchange a look as Zoya coughs delicately into her hand. Shay tries to catch Monique’s eye but she just stares up at the ceiling like it’s the most fascinating thing ever. Even Megan just takes a huge bite of her lunch without saying anything. 

“What, what is that?” Shay asks.

“We… are using our own savings,” Grace says quickly.

“Right,” Kelsey jumps in. “Personal savings.”

Tyler says, “Wait, out of your own pockets?”

“We got really good discounts,” Jo says. “You know, it practically cost us, uhm, nothing.”

“Right,” Kelsey says. “So let’s just move on, shall we?”

Marlon says, “Wait, no, even if you guys planned all of this, we should all pitch in. Or do a Gofundme or something afterwards -”

“Not needed!” Zoya says sharply. “Totally - that’s very cool of you Marlon, but definitely not needed. Nope.”

Marlon furrows his brows. “Okay…”

“Uhm, and the last thing is the Bouldin Beat,” Kelsey says loudly, as if to speak over anyone who could continue that line of conversation. “Grace?”

Grace opens her mouth to speak, but it’s Poonam, down the table, who answers.

“I’ll take this one, Kelsey,” she says. “The newspaper isn’t quite there yet, but it will be ready by Monday. We’re sending it off to the printing press on Thursday. It should cause quite a stir in the Austin journalism community.”

“Uhm,” Kelsey says. “Right -”

“They’re always looking towards the university students for the prizes but I think we have a good chance,” Poonam says. “It might even work better if we do all get expelled -”

“Okay, no one is getting expelled,” Zoya says loudly. “That would be illegal.”

“Maybe they plant drugs in our lockers,” Poonam says, shrugging her shoulders. “They all have the combinations for a reason.”

“I don’t - I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Grace tries to say.

Poonam says, “I just think it’s better to be prepared for this kind of situation, look at what happened to Ivan Golunov.”

“I - okay,” Grace sighs. “Fair point.”

Tyler scrunches his face up. “Is it?”

“Anyway, so I think that’s pretty much it,” Kelsey says. “We’re all set.”

The bell rings, and everyone around them starts to gather their stuff to go onto the next class. Jo congratulates Kelsey on getting the meeting done in one lunch period, causing Kelsey to beam. Shay can’t help but smile too, even as a small part of her really wonders how the fuck she got here. It’s not a bad thought; it only makes her smile wider, instead. She stands up to stretch, throwing her leg over the bench so that she can start heading to class too. 

“What’s got you grinning like that?” 

She turns to see Monique coming around the table, a crooked grin on her face. 

“Hey,” Shay says in lieu of answering. “I’m glad to see you.”

Monique says, “me too.”

“Get a room,” Zoya says as she walks past them, looking over her shoulder to smile at both of them.

“How’re you feeling?” Shay asks.

Monique shrugs. “Better than Saturday, but not as great as I could be. I don’t know. Still a down week.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Shay asks.

Monique smiles softly. “You’re doing it already.”

A loud harumph noise sounds rights in Shay’s ear; she jumps, trying to swat at whomever has just made the sound. She half turns to see Tyler and Marlon standing beside her, pretending to not be eavesdropping on their conversation. Marlon turns slightly pink, looking embarrassed; Tyler just pushes Shay out of the way to give Monique a hug.

“Hey!” Shay says. 

“Just wanted to say hi to your girlfriend,” Tyler says slyly, like the little shit he is.

“Hey Tyler,” Monique smiles. “Marlon, hey.” 

Marlon slaps Monique a five once Tyler moves away. “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” Monique says. “Been better, but also been worse. You guys?”

“Same,” Marlon says.

“So, when are we allowed to hang out with you?” Tyler asks.

Shay gives him a death glare. “What!”

Tyler pointedly ignores her. “You’ve hung out with your friends, and surprisingly, all of Shay’s other friends.”

“The surprising part is that Shay even has other friends,” Marlon jumps in with a shit-eating grin.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Shay says through her teeth.

“When do we get some Monique bonding time?” Tyler asks devilishly. “I feel like Shady’s been hiding you for weeks.” 

“Tyler!”

“Ooh,” Monique grins, “was I your side chick?”

“What!” Shay flushes. “No!”

“Your dirty little secret?”

“Anyway,” Shay says loudly, right as the second bell rings.

“Soon,” Monique promises. “Apparently my best friend shared some of my dirty secrets. Can't wait to hear about all the skeletons in Shay’s closet.”

“Most of them are rainbow-colored,” Tyler winks.

“That’s a terrible joke,” Marlon says. “When you consider the rate of -”

“I hate all of you,” Shay declares. 

They all start to move out of the cafeteria, with Shay trying to pretend like her face isn’t on fire. Monique falls in line besides Shay, glancing over at her and smiling. Shay smiles back, half listening to Tyler complain about not studying for his Calc text next period. Shay’s about to step on the back of his shoe to cause him to trip when she feels Monique’s hand brush against hers. Shay startles, looking over at Monique. Monique gives her a soft, coy look, their hands brushing again.

Shay feels a smile spread across her face and she brushes her thumb across the back of Monique’s hand before holding it, their fingers interlocking. They walk down the hall, Shay’s entire body buzzing. She barely notices if they’re getting any looks, and frankly, in this moment, couldn’t give a flying fuck if they were. 

+++

**Wednesday, November 13, 5:16 PM**

_ When dem fly up in yuh face, gal _

_ Make dem know dem place _

_ Numba one in ah di race, gal _

_ Could neva replace _

_ Independent and yuh strong, gal _

_ And you set di pace _

_ Fit and healthy living long, gal _

_ Free yuhself gal, you got class and you got pride _

_ Come together cause we strong and unified _

“Mrs. Mendoza keeps telling me to be honest in my essay, but, I don’t know,” Megan says, chewing on the end of her eraser. “The only interesting things that have happened to me are so…”

“So?”

“Not really something I want to be telling colleges,” Megan says. “I can either talk about being a homewrecker or talk about being an alcoholic.”

In the hallway, Shay hears Mrs. Flores make a small choking noise. There’s the sound of a few steps coming towards the room, but then they pause and sound like they’re going in the opposite direction. Shay bites down on the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

“Maybe it’s all about how you frame it,” Grace says. “Like, Daniel wrote about how being injured meant he was free to explore other things he was interested in instead of just football.”

“Isn’t he on a football scholarship?” Shay asks.

Grace waves her hand. “Besides the point.”

“Okay, so what are you saying?” Megan asks. “I just have to talk about how being a drunk mess made me realize how to be a better, more creative person?”

This time, Grace makes the choking noise. “Not necessarily.”

The three of them are splayed on Megan’s bed, laptops open and attempting to work on their college applications. Shay’s eyes fall down to the question that Mrs. Mendoza suggested she focus on after weeks of staring at a blank page. 

  1. _ Discuss an accomplishment, event, or realization that sparked a period of personal growth and a new understanding of yourself or others._

“Did realizing you were a drunk mess help you become more creative?” Shay asks.

Megan shrugs. “Well. It was more the recovery of it. I had to focus on stuff other than drinking, so I really started throwing myself into choreography.”

“But you were always good at that,” Shay says, before turning to Grace. “You should’ve seen some of her moves. This one time, she did this thing with the drum kit, it was insane, it was like some kind of like, backflip where she hit the top of the snare -” 

“Oh yah,” Megan smiles. “Marlon got so annoyed that we interrupted band practice -” 

“Because then Abby wanted to try it too, but she slipped and ended up cutting herself on the cymbols,” Shay tries not to laugh.

“It actually was pretty gross,” Megan winces. “There was blood everywhere.”

“Yah, but come on, it was mad shallow,” Shay says. “Didn’t even need stitches.” 

Grace groans. “I’m so glad you didn’t have us do anything like that that with the team. I can barely keep up with the stuff on the ground.”

“Come on, you’re a great dancer,” Megan says. 

“Oh, that reminds me,” Shay says. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen your team… dance. But y’all always seem to be practicing?”

Grace and Megan exchange a look. 

“Also, where’s all your gear?” Shay asks. “If I were y’all, I’d be obnoxious like the Kittens.”

“You have merch for your band that you never wear,” Grace points out.

“Yeah, but that’s different,” Shay says.

“Why?”

“Well -” Shay pauses for a moment. “Well - I don’t know. It just is.”

Megan hurriedly says, “No, it’s the same. That’s so obnoxious, anyway.”

“I mean, I guess,” Shay says. “But -”

“Oh, but Shay, I was gonna say,” Megan says quickly, “Oh my God, speaking of Grace dancing. You should’ve seen it, in sophomore year, are all… the Marlon shit went down, Grace was trying to cheer me up and she just started like, twerking -”

“I - okay, it wasn’t twerking, frankly, I don’t have the ass for that -” 

Shay privately agrees with that, but decides to keep that to herself. 

“- And anyway, Daniel shows up right behind her,” Megan laughs. “It was hilarious. I bet that’s when he fell in love.”

“That’s - not what happened,” Grace’s face turns pink.

“It totally was!”

“Anyway,” Grace says loudly. “Sarah Lawrence would be lucky to have you in their dance program for choreography.”

“Yah, and thank god their application isn’t due until January,” Megan groans. “Gives me time to do this and submit a video of my work.”

“Yah, but you got this,” Grace says. 

“Yeah, but I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you all the way in Chicago next year. I hate that Northwestern is so far,” Megan groans. “Shay, please tell me you’re applying to some schools in the northeast?”

Shay is so surprised at the comment that her mind goes blank for a moment. Grace and Megan pause what they’re doing to look at her patiently. 

“I was just going to - to apply to U.T. Austin, for music,” Shay says slowly.

“Oh, that’s awesome,” Grace says. “Their conservatory is really great, I heard.”

“Yeah,” Shay says. “But… I’ve been thinking about… Berkeley. Or… Juilliard.”

Megan beams at her. “Oh my god, if it’s Juilliard we can hang out like, all the time.” 

“It’s just an application,” Shay mutters. “I - you know. I have stuff here.”

She and Megan’s eyes meet, and she sees that Megan knows she’s talking about her mom. Megan leans over, squeezing Shay’s knee tightly before returning to her own position. Grace frowns a bit.

“You, Marlon and Tyler haven’t talked about what will happen if you go to different schools, huh?” Grace asks. “Tyler and I are in the same English class and I heard him say he’s definitely just gonna stay close to home.”

Shay pauses for a moment at Grace’s open face and wonders if Tyler’s ever gonna tell her that he catfished her into an Instagram friendship.

“Only a little,” Shay says. “I think right now we’re just trying to focus on doing our music.”

“Oh,” Megan says, “That reminds me. I heard your track for the walk-out and it’s - damn. I almost cried.”

“Shut up!”

“No, I’m serious Shay,” Megan tells her. “It was seriously deep. Your verse, there’s this one line that like, punched me in the gut. I can’t remember the full thing but it was like - like ‘I went searching for your approval, but then I realized all I had to do was get to know me.’”

“No, that’s it exactly,” Shay says, a warm feeling making a smile spread across her face.

“God, it was so good,” Megan says. “It’s gonna be so powerful on the speakers.” 

Shay bites at her lip. “Oh, that reminds me again. You sure you don’t want us all to pitch in for the cost of everything? It just seems… like kinda unfair.”

Grace shakes her head. “Oh, no, no, no it’s fine.”

“Right,” Megan says quickly. “Fine.”

Shay narrows her eyes at them. “Alright, I’m clearly missing something here.”

“No you’re not,” Megan squeaks.

“You guys didn’t really use your own money, did you?” Shay asks. “Or - or what, was it… illegally acquired?”

Grace shifts so fast she almost falls off the bed and Megan immediately denies it.

“What? No!” Megan says. “How - why -”

“I mean, it’s totally cool,” Shay says. “I won’t say anything, I mean, you know I’m chill with Mar and he does his weed deals right in front of me and everything.” 

Grace’s voice is high when she says, “you think we’re selling drugs?”

“Yeah, but I mean it’s chill,” Shay says. “Oh, you should sell that stuff that Monique has. Or - had, I don’t know if she… but it got me so stoned, like I was on a next level kinda shit. Hey, Marlon can actually help with that - I mean, okay maybe that would be weird, but -”

“We’re not selling drugs, we’re embezzling!” Megan blurts out.

“Megan!”

“You’re doing what?” Shay’s eyes widen. “Like - like in Selena?”

“It’s - uhm,” Grace grimaces.

Megan’s mouth stretches into an awkward smile. “Uh… kinda like that.”

“What!”

“Shh!” Megan says, glancing towards the door. “If my mom hears this she’ll literally kill me.”

“That’s why you didn’t want to tell anyone at the meeting!” Shay says. “Cause - this is like, some crazy shit!”

“It’s not that bad,” Grace insists. “We’re just…”

“Just?”

“Taking the money that we’re supposed to be using on our dance team and… not using it for that,” Megan says.

Shay blinks rapidly at her. “What does that mean.”

Megan says, “Okay, so… each club, team, whatever, that’s approved from the school gets a budget, right? Ours is like… four hundred dollars.”

“What!”

“And, you know, we technically have a budget for what we’re supposed to use it on,” Grace jumps in. “You know… uniforms, away trips, competition fees…”

“But… we don’t actually do any of that,” Megan says. “I mean, the last few years we mostly used it to buy ourselves practice outfits, a boombox, stuff like that. But the exercise equipment in the gym and stuff is already really great quality so it’s not like we had to get that much stuff!” 

“And it’s not like we’re the ones invited to meets and stuff, that’s the Kittens,” Grace says. “So… this year…”

“You decided to steal from the school!”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” Megan says. “You know, in other places, they’re cutting funding for the arts -”

“Cause of thieves!”

“Anyway,” Grace says loudly. “Anyway, uhm, we decided that this is our last year anyway, and the team is gonna die with us when we graduate, so… why not use the money to a good cause?”

Shay starts laughing. “Wow. Y’all are so… like anti-establishment. But within the establishment. This is wild.”

Megan’s mouth twitches. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“But now you know why we kept it all hush-hush,” Grace says. “If this gets out, we actually will get in major trouble.”

Shay mimics locking her mouth and throwing away the key. “My lips are sealed.”

“Seriously, you can’t tell anyone,” Megan says. “Not even Marlon and Tyler.”

“I won’t!”

“I don’t know,” Megan singsongs as she slides off the bed. “You kinda have a reputation for being a tattletale.”

“I - hey!” Shay lobs a pillow at her.

Megan dances out of the way, before running out of the room laughing. She calls back that she has to pee, but that she’s gonna get more sodas once she’s done.

“Make sure to wash your hands, Snukums!” Shay calls out. 

Grace snorts, and then shoots Shay a crooked grin.

“You know, this is really cool,” she says after a minute. “And - I hope it’s okay for me to say this, but I’m glad you and Megan are friends again. She… missed you. A lot.”

“Yeah,” Shay says. “Me too.”

“And…” Grace winces. “And, you know, I’m… sorry for what I said, in the locker room. Honestly… if you wanted to like, cancel me and Megan, we’d definitely deserve it.”

Shay pauses for a minute. “Honestly, yeah. It was fucked up. And… you know, it’s okay. Well, it’s not okay, but I’m definitely not upset about it anymore.”

“Sometimes… I think it’s easy to forget how easy it is to be… just… I don’t know, bigoted,” Grace says. “Even though I said it as a joke, it really wasn’t funny. And it’s like… sorry, I don’t want to like, just put this all on you.”

“Thanks,” Shay says. “But, I know what you mean. It’s like no matter how hard you try sometimes, you say shit. We all do it. I think… it’s how you deal with it afterwards.”

“Yeah,” Grace shifts, crossing her legs. “Well, I’m trying. And Megan is too, like. I think the older I get, the more I realize that… it’s always about working on yourself. And trying to make the world better, too.”

Shay gives her a crooked smile. “Clearly.”

“Right,” Grace smiles back. “Clearly.”

The moment stretches out and becomes a little awkward, with Grace leaning back slightly to peer through the open door. Shay knows that she’s looking to see where Megan is. It’s not that they aren’t… friends? Actually, Shay isn’t really sure that they’re all the way there yet, and maybe that’s what’s got the silence straining between them. Grace looks back at Shay and smiles a bit, and it reminds Shay of the newsroom in the spring. _ I uhm, I like your hair_.

“So, you and Daniel Williamson,” Shay finds herself saying. “That’s… still happening?”

Grace beams at her. “Yup, we’re still dating.”

Shay gestured towards her laptop. “And he doesn’t care you’re going across the country?”

Grace sighs. “We’ve has a lot of long talks about it, and ultimately… like we don’t want to hold each other back. You know? Long distance isn’t a death sentence. And I really want this school, and he really likes where he is, so… we’re just determined to make it work.”

“But… how?”

Grace smiles. “FaceTime?”

Shay laughs. “Okay, valid.”

“Also breaks,” Grace says. “It’s not like he can’t afford it.”

Shay isn’t sure if that’s a joke or not, because Grace is smiling, something that seems soft and intimate. 

“And then we talked about doing a study abroad together too,” Grace says. “I don’t know. But it’s working for us right now so we’ll just take it on as it comes next year.”

“Yeah.”

“What about you and Monique?” Grace asks.

Shay opens her mouth and then closes it again. “Honestly we haven’t talked about it. There was so much going on…”

Grace shrugs. “Honestly, if anyone can work it out, it’s you two.”

Shay says, “what do you mean?”

“When I see you guys, it reminds me of me and Daniel.”

Shay squints. “Me and Monique remind you of your own very white, very straight relationship?”

Grace sticks her tongue out. “Haha.”

“You walked right into that one,” Shay grins.

“No, what I mean is that you look at her the way I look at Daniel. And she smiles at you the same way he smiles at me. So it’s… sometimes you look at another couple and it just reminds you of how much you love someone.”

“That’s…” Shay can’t think of an adjective.

“Weird?”

“Sweet,” is what she settles on.

“And anyway,” Grace says. “We were all working on our applications a couple of weeks ago and her top three schools are U.T. Austin, NYU, and Berkeley.”

Shay chokes on her own spit. “You’re fucking with me.”

“No I’m not!” Grace laughs. “I swear. So, yeah. I mean, as long as you get into your schools…”

“Please, I’m the smartest person in our grade,” Shay boasts.

“According to my source, you’re third in our class,” Grace says.

Shay pretends to glare at her. “Zoya tell you that?”

Grace leans in slightly, lowering her voice. “Actually, Kelsey. She snuck a look at everyone’s permanent record.”

Shay laughs right in Grace’s face. “Okay, now you’re fucking with me.”

“I’m not!” Grace says. “Kelsey has some serious skills. Plus everyone in our school like, trusts her and leaves her alone in administrative offices like, all the time.”

“Fuck, I need to start being nicer to her,” Shay jokes.

Megan comes back into the room, a plate of pan dulce and a bunch of cans of soda cradled in her arms. Shay reaches over to take the plate from her as she dumps the soda on the bed. 

“Oh, don’t worry, she’s already planning on asking you to join prom planning committee,” Grace says.

Shay sputters. “Why? I thought she liked me?”

“Who, Kelsey?” Megan asks, climbing back on the bed. “Dude, that’s totally her way of saying you're like, best friends now.” 

Shay groans. “By making me have fucking school spirit?”

“You could say no,” Grace points out with a smile.

“No, I’ll do it,” Shay sighs in resignation. “I guess.”

Megan picks up one of the baked goods and points it at her. “Maybe you can convince Tyler and Marlon to perform too.”

“Oh yeah, our prom band,” Grace says.

Shay says, “I hate both of you.”

A thoughtful look passes over Megan’s face. She turns to Grace.

“Nah, she totally loves us,” Megan says.

Grace nods. “Oh yah, she totally loves us.”

“BFFL status,” Megan says.

“Put that pan dulce down so I can smack you with this pillow again,” Shay says, grinning too hard to seem stern. 

+++

**Thursday, November 14, 7:14 PM **

_New message from:_ **_**Monique Cleaver  
**_**

These Know Your Rights cards are no joke

Tell me about it

We're lucky that Diana and Jamie made them for us

Seriously

I'm going over it with Asia too

My grandparents are coming tomorrow btw

They're getting real pumped, reminds them of the good old days I guess

Haha

I'm serious

Pops Is going off about the time some of them protested the capitol in Cali or something

"Back then we flaunted our right to bear arms right in those assholes faces!"

omg

Don't worry my grandma already told him he can't bring a gun

ARE YOU SERIOUS

I wish I was joking

Holy shitetgrgtrhjrthrehytjtgrg

I mean he doesn't eve have one

Too many kids in the house yk

So idk where he thought he would get one by tomorrow?

We do live in Texas

Yeah but he's a Black Muslim man

Good point

Surprised the NSA isn't already banging down your house for him even talking about it

Yeah the agent monitoring our texts is probably going nuts trying to get a warrant

LMFAO

Anyway

Are you worried about tomorrow?

Now that I know your grandpa wants to have an armed protest?

Haha

Seriously

Honestly?

No

I've felt more anxious going on stage

Maybe tomorrow I'll feel different but for now 

Nope

You?

How are you feeling?

Honestly fine

I've already been expelled from one school so another one is no biggie

MONIQUE

Kidding 

Obviously

SHADY

I'm gonna kill Tyler

:) 

Seriously though

You okay?

Yeah

I am

<3

<3 

+++

**Friday, November 15, 2:29 PM**

Shay wipes her palms against her jeans, barely able to pay attention to Mr. Williams as he talks about trigonometric functions. The symbols of the blackboard all blur into one continuous white line, and she swears her heart is beating along to the thin sound of the seconds hand ticking by on the clock hanging above the board. Beside her, Marlon is taking slow, steady breaths. She tries to mimic his pattern, the same way she might when he starts improvising during band practice. Across the room, Grace gives her a slow smile, as if they’ve heard an inside joke instead of getting ready to walk out of class. 

Shay’s feet sweat inside her socks. She almost pushes her shirtsleeves up to cool down a little bit, but stops at the last moment. During lunch, Kelsey, Jo, Megan, Grace, Monique and Zoya had written the number of the National Lawyers Guild on everyone’s arms - “just in case,” Zoya had said gravely - and now she’s paranoid about Mr. Williams preemptively spotting it and demanding answers. Logically, she knows it doesn’t matter, as there’s only a few seconds left to 2:30, but she keeps her sleeves firmly rolled down. 

_ Money cannot buy _

_ All the love that's here tonight _

_ All the love that's here tonight _

_ Ooh ooh _

_ It's just you and I _

_ So lift your hands toward the sky _

_ Lift your hands toward the sky _

_ Ooh ooh _

Shay’s not sure who the first person to stand up is; it seems to happen like a domino effect. Almost everyone in the room starts to rise, hitching their bags over their shoulders and stepping out of their desks. At first, Mr. Williams doesn’t seem to notice, still half-facing the board. But as soon as the mass starts heading towards the door, he blinks at them in surprise.

“What is going on here?” he says, chalk dangling from his fingers. “You are not dismissed!”

As planned, no one answers; calmly, everyone walks out of the door as if they’re in the middle of a fire drill, lining up side by side and traipsing into the hall. Shay almost smiles at the ridiculous thought, but she can’t quite seem to form the facial expression. When she glances over at Marlon, his face is as grave as hers is, the weight of their actions seeming to press down on everyone now. Shay takes a sharp breath and thinks about what she's actually doing, and the impact that it can have. It's something that's gonna change shit, she thinks; maybe not in the country, or even in teh state, or honestly, even in the school. But it's something that's gonna change them. 

Change her. 

Maybe it already has. 

“I - excuse me!” 

Mr. Williams half-follows them out of the hall, but his voice gets drowned out by a number of other teachers, all leaning out of their classrooms and yelling for their students to get back into their rooms. The hallways are filling up, full of more students than Shay would’ve thought; she has to squeeze tightly between Marlon and Grace, their hands all brushing together. To her amazement, no one is responding to their teachers’ demands; barely anyone is saying anything. There are a few nervous giggles and hushed noises, but otherwise it’s as silent as the SATs in the hallway. 

The P.A. system crackles to life just as they’re about to reach the front entrance to the school. Folks near the front of the group push the doors open wide, letting the sunlight stream into the hallway. Shay has to blink away the brightness for a moment before she can make out any of the shapes in front of her.

“Attention! Attention! All students, please return to your classrooms immediately! This is not an authorized - uhm, a school-sanctioned event, please return to your rooms immediately. Anyone who does not will face -”

Vice Principal Lee’s voice is drowned out by Shay’s voice, her lyrics already blasting on the speaker system outside. She steps out into the chilly sunshine and onto the lawn outside of the school. It’s already filled up with other students, friends and family members, much more than Shay would’ve ever guessed. Between people are the portrait posters of students, stuck into the lawn on wooden posts. A bit of self-consciousness and pride has her looking for her own face in the crowd, but she catches sight of her mom first. 

She’s near the edge of the crowd, sitting down in one of those folding chairs that people use for tailgating. Mr. and Mrs. Frazier stand beside her, and there’s a large cooler on her other side. Bottles of water and ice are poking out of it. Shay feels a knot crawling up her throat as her mother spots her back, giving her a jaunty wave. Shay swallows it down, trying not to be overwhelmed by the wave of emotions that’s come over her. Somehow this, seeing her mom out and trying and supporting her, is what’s getting to her the most. Pride swells up inside of her, and she feels the tears unwittingly springing to her eyes. 

_ They say the only thing in life you need is acceptance _

_ But I’m tired of having to go the distance _

_ Told I gotta meet you in the middle when you refuse to budge anymore _

_ I went searching for your approval _

_ but then I realized all I had to do was get to know me _

_ And at the end of the day, I know who I’m standing for _

_ We are deliberate and we are not afraid _

_ We’re building our future and changing today _

She’s moving towards her mother when she spots the poster of herself, close by to where Diana and Jamie are standing stoically. She almost trips, staring out at her own face as if it’s someone entirely different. She doesn’t know how Monique did it, to be honest; but there’s something haunting about her picture, the grim determination and sadness reflecting in her eyes back at her. The sign that she’s holding onto with tight fingers reads _ I can be persuasive enough for her to forget all about being a lez. _ Even though it had happened last year, she can still hear the derisive tone and the accompanying snickers of the French teacher and the European History teacher as she walked behind them in the hallway. She takes a deep breath in, before being carried back with the crowd.

She finds herself standing between Monique and Marlon, holding onto their hands tightly. The difference in that alone brings a small smile to her face; Monique’s fingers are interlaced with hers, while Marlon’s hand is slightly sweaty and cupped around hers. Somehow, they’ve all had the same idea to form a sort of multi-tiered line, everyone holding hands and weaving in between the posters. Tyler stands close behind her, between Grace and Jo; she hears him mutter something about _ Us_, and Grace’s responding snort.

“What is going on here?” Ms. Johnson steps out onto the lawn, voice rising high above their song, still playing on a loop. 

Behind her seems to be a legion of administrative staff, teachers, and even some students, all of them with varying degrees of shock on their faces. Shay manages to catch a glimpse of Mrs. Mendoza, who steps out further from the crowd. Shay watches with surprise as she and a few other teachers move to stand with their protesting students. Mrs. Mendoza catches her stare and grins at Shay; she then strips her jacket off, revealing a black shirt that says _ I support my students right to walk-out _in white letters. A number of other teachers do the same thing, melding into the lines. 

“I -” the small sound slips past Shay’s lips before she can stop herself.

“Oh yah, about that,” Jo whispers behind her. “Somehow Mrs. Mendoza caught wind of it and said she wanted to help.”

“Did you know she’s technically our dance team’s faculty adviser?” Grace says, voice even lower.

Shay almost chokes on her spit. Monique folks her lips together like she’s trying not to laugh, squeezing Shay’s hand tightly. Marlon turns his head slightly to shush Grace and Jo. 

“Oh come on, no one can hear us over the song anyway,” Jo says. 

“It’s the principle of it!” Marlon says.

“I didn’t realize you were one of the posters,” Jo says.

“What?”

“Cause you seem like you got a stick up your ass.” 

A strangled sound comes out of Monique’s mouth, and then it’s Shay’s turn to squeeze her hand tightly. She glances over at Marlon, who doesn’t look totally offended or even slightly annoyed. He’s rolling his eyes good-naturedly, reminding Shay of every time she or Tyler ragged on him in the past. Another change, she thinks, except for the fact that it's also not.

Can something be achingly familiar and also completely new?

Once upon a time she might've thought no. 

Shay’s attention is drawn back to Ms. Johnson and the rest of the administration and teachers, who seem to just be standing there, frozen. Ms. Johnson moves forward slightly, her lips parted as she focuses on one of the posters that’s closest to where she’s standing. Shay thinks it’s the one of Jo, the one that reads, _ I have nothing against your people, as long as you come here the right way. You do have a Green Card, don’t you? _Shay’s eyes scan the small crowd before her, catching sight of Mr. Anderson. His face looks impossibly pale as he stares. She wishes she could see Zoya's face. 

On the speakers, the ending strains of their song comes in, before there’s a slight skip in the audio. Then, Jo’s voice comes over the line, amplified over the sound system.

“We, the students of Bouldin High School, have made the choice to walk out of class in protest of the terrible behavior of some of our teachers, administration, and staff. Every single one of us has, many, many times, had to hear an adult in a position of power either say something extremely prejudiced or, if something prejudiced is said, say nothing at all. This school tells us that we should be proud of who we are, that we should speak up for ourselves, and that we should never be quiet in the face of injustice. Well, what happens when the faces of injustice are the ones we have to listen to everyday? What happens when it’s you, the ones who make the rules and kick us out and silence us and make us feel worthless? So here we are, letting you know that we won’t stand for this anymore. We want to be treated with dignity and respect and we want the adults here to own up to their bullshit.”

Shay thinks she hears some of the adults behind her muttering at the expletive, but it doesn’t get very loud.

“Assata Shakur said, ‘the schools we go to are reflections of the society that created them. Nobody is going to give you the education you need to overthrow them. Nobody is going to teach you your true history, teach you your true heroes, if they know that that knowledge will help set you free.’ But we stand here to give you another option, one in which you work with us to dismantle the ugly systems that keep us feeling unsafe, unworthy, and un-liberated. Our list of demands will be publicized in the Bouldin Beat on Monday. Today, we have walked-out. If you have not agreed to our demands by Tuesday.... Well. You’ll see what will happen. Just like our dignity, this is non-negotiable.”

Shay feels a spike of energy going through her as Jo’s words fade, the static playing over the speaker somehow accentuating her final statement. She feels the phantom of a shiver running up her spine, utterly impressed with the hard edge of Jo’s speech and how much it actually fucking inspired her. She hears a murmur of approval run through the crowd behind her, and it’s like finishing a successful set. She can feel the blood pumping through her veins, the crowd calling out to her, something deep within her lifting her chin up and straightening her back. She looks forward, breathing calm despite the massive amounts of energy spiking inside of her.

The speaker crackles to life once more, and Jo’s voice resounds over the lawn again. 

“The choice is yours.” 

_ Birds flying high you know how I feel _

_ Sun in the sky you know how I feel _

_ Breeze driftin' on by you know how I feel _

_ It's a new dawn _

_ It's a new day _

_ It's a new life for me yeah _

_ It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me _

_ Ouh _

_ And I'm feeling good _

  
  


+++

**Friday, November 15, 6:51 PM **

_New message from: **Josefina Valencia**_

Hey, this is Shay

I got your number from Tyler

HEY BOOOOOOOOO

Hey :)

I didn't get to say anything earlier in the chaos and stuff

But I just wanted to tell you your speech was really

It was super powerful

Damn really?

I was so nervous, thanks Shay

And your song was fucking awesome

Thanks Jo

And also like, thank you for even planning this shit

I think it's actually gonna change things

Or I hope

Me too 

+++

**Saturday, November 16, 2:01 PM**

_New message from: **Dingleberries**_

_[Tyler]_

Did y'all see our follower count?

Skyrocketed 

_[Mar]_

Really?

_[Tyler]_

Someone

Or I guess a bunch of people posted the walk-out online 

The power of social media

Holy shit

_[Mar]_

Yeah

Ty you should totally ask Jo if we can add her speech into the track

It would be so cool

Yo that's an awesome idea

**4:25 PM**

_[Tyler]_

She said

"GRHNFHTTYJRY HOLY SHIT YES"

"JUST LIKE BEYONCE DID IN FLAWLESS"

_[Mar]_

...or something else...

Damn Mar I didn't know you were part of the Beyhive 

_[Mar]_

-_-

+++

**Saturday, November 16, 4:51 PM**

_New message from_ _:_ ** _ Monique Cleaver _ **

Holy shit 

You okay????

Asia told me they were talking about the walk-out on the news

They played part of your song

"These powerful lyrics were made by a local band, Clout from Grandma's Closet" 

And they did a close up on some of the photos and I quote

"these astounding portraits were done by Bouldin student, Monique Cleaver" 

Also a bunch of stuff about Jo's speech

Called her out by name 

holy shit

hooooooly shit

Don't forget me when you're famous

Me?????

YOU don't forget ME when you're famous

How about we just agree to drag the other one along with our fame

Deal

<3

+++


	10. Friendsgiving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder for [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4XWEfhgjaeWfyFsaLCuZwi)! 
> 
> OH MY GOD! I can't believe this is the last chapter! I just want to sincerely, from the bottom of my heart thank you to everyone who's read, commented, bookmarked, and come along with me on this trip. This fic has been so momentous to me and I honestly can't believe it's all done. 
> 
> Additionally, I'd love if y'all commented on what you liked, didn't like, or anything that you would like to say, even if it's just a keysmash! And if you ever feel like stopping by to chat, you can always find me on Tumblr at [norwaydumpsterfireremakes](https://norwaydumpsterfireremakes.tumblr.com/)! My anon is always open, and may possibly be working on some extra content to go with this fic here :)

**+++**

**Sunday, November 17, 11:42 AM**

_ She could say in her voice, in her way that she love me _

_ With her eyes, with her smile, with her belt, with her hands, with her money _

_ I am the thesis of her prayers _

_ Her nieces and her nephews are just pieces of the layers _

_ Only ones she love as much as me is Jesus Christ and Taylor _

_ I got a future so I'm singing for my grandma _

_ You singing too, but your grandma ain't my grandma _

_ Mine's hand made, pan fried, sun dried _

_ Southside, and beat the devil by a landslide _

_ Praying with her hands tied, president of my fan club, Santa _

_ Something told me I should bring my butt to church _

The pastor mops her brow with a handkerchief out of something like a Tyler Perry movie, readjusting her curly wig before taking a long, deep drink of water. Shay sits in the pew, squeezed between her mother and Kelsey Russell of all people. Her mother is wearing a ridiculous purple hat and Kelsey has on a dress with a thousand frills, but Shay doesn’t feel out of place with her jeans and blazer. 

The pastor puts her water back down, her brown skin still shining in the sunlight streaming through the church. 

“As I wrap up my sermon today, I want to remind everyone here of John, chapter thirteen, where Jesus gives his apostles a new commandment. He says to them, ‘A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another.’”

“Amen,” her mother calls out next to her.

“I’m not here to preach blind understanding or forgiveness or acceptance, especially in a world where evil and prejudice is so present, a world where humans in power think that they represent the Good Lord’s word, but just mutilate it,” the pastor says. “But I am here to tell you that there is a power in love, there is a power in the work that comes with love. It’s not a feeling, it’s an action, it’s one we can choose to bestow on one another everyday. ‘Love one another,’ Jesus tells us. It may sound easy, and I know, Lord, I know, that it’s not. But if we want to change this world, if we want to dismantle the systems that bring us down, then we have got to learn how to love!”

“Yes, God!” Kelsey says besides her. 

“There was an activist in Detroit, Grace Lee Boggs, who quoted her husband, Jimmy Boggs. ‘Revolutions are made out of love for people and place. He often talked about loving America enough to change it.’ She talked about him saying that he loved this country, and ‘not only because my ancestors' blood is in the soil but because of what I believe it can become.'” the pastor pauses for a moment. “She went on to write, ‘love isn’t about what we did yesterday; it’s about what we do today and tomorrow and the day after.’ So I challenge you here today to think about John and think about Grace and think about your own place in this system, in this country, in the world. What are you doing out of love?”

Around her, loud murmurs of agreement, scattered clapping, and a few shouts of ‘amen’ sound.

The pastor shakes her head at them vehemently. “I don’t think y’all are hearing me though. What are you doing out of love? I said, what are you doing out of love!”

The congregation swells and gets to their feet, people shouting and stomping in pews and in the aisles. Shay finds herself caught up in the spirit of it, standing up and letting out a loud whoop. It makes her catch her breath for a moment, her eyes catching onto her mother’s face. Her brown skin glows and she seems joyous, radiance shining out of her. She looks over and catches Shay’s eyes, and a smile spreads onto her mouth. Shay reaches out, gripping her mother’s hand tightly in hers. 

Her mom squeezes back. 

The pastor’s tone goes back down to a regular level. “Okay, alright. Whew! Taking y’all to church today!”

Everyone seems to settle down, laughing and moving to sit back down in their seats. Shay keeps holding her mother’s hand. 

“Alright, amen, amen!” the pastor says. “Before we go today, just a few announcements about some of the events we got going on in the next few weeks.”

_ Well there's a bridge and there's a river that I still must cross _

_ As I'm going on my journey _

_ Oh, I might be lost _

_ And there's a road I have to follow, a place I have to go _

_ Well no-one told me just how to get there _

_ But when I get there I'll know _

_ Cause I'm taking it _

_ Step by step, bit by bit, _

_ Stone by stone (yeah), brick by brick (Oh, yeah) _

_ Step by step, day by day, mile by mile (ooh, ooh, ooh) _

“I can’t believe you and my mom go to the same church,” Shay says to Kelsey.

They meander around in the lobby of the church, hanging out near a table full of refreshments. Shay has a cup of hot chocolate in one hand and a strawberry frosted donut in the other. She watches as Kelsey laughs around a pumpkin muffin. Across the room, Shay’s mother beams at her before turning back to speak to some of her own friends.

“It’s a small world, I guess,” Kelsey says. “God, didn’t you just like - like love Pastor Jones’s sermon today? I mean, when she was talking about love being action and that to change the world it has to be because we love it? Just - God. Wow.”

Shay smiles, and she can’t help but think about how Kelsey’s excited rambling would’ve annoyed her, just a few weeks ago. How she might’ve thought it was corny or too much or something; but here and now, she knows exactly what she means.

“It reminded me more of a concert than a church service,” Shay admits. “She definitely knows how to… I don’t know. Her words just hit right.”

“I know, right?” Kelsey says. “At my last church, like… I always like, so badly wanted to feel what the pastor was saying, and everyone seemed to totally get into it, but I just… couldn’t. He was always talking about laws, and like people not being good enough and like being good just to go to heaven or whatever… but Pastor Jones is so different, like, she’s all about trying to be good to each other cause we’re all just human, but not in like a… totally ignoring that people are assholes and like, Nazis and stuff kind of way. You know?”

“Yeah,” Shay says. “I think I’m getting that.”

“You should think about coming more often!” Kelsey says. “And - oh my God! I’m part of this feminist group here, like it’s all about finding strong, female rolemodels in the Bible and applying it to modern day situations and like, we just talked about Judith totally killing that one guy -”

“Uh,” a small bubble of panic spreads up Shay’s throat and seems to pop when she opens her mouth. “We’ll see how it goes.”

Kelsey just smiles at her. “Right. No pressure.”

“Hey guys,” a voice says to Shay’s left.

Shay turns to see Nik walking towards them, a smile on his face. Shay’s almost surprised, before she remembers that Kelsey had mentioned Nik going to her church, all those weeks ago. 

“Hey!” Kelsey beams at him. 

He asks casually, “How’s it going?” 

“Great!” Kelsey says. “I feel so energized after the walk out and now with church, I’m ready to go! Just be out there and do it!”

“Do… what?” Nik asks, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Everything!” Kelsey says. “Especially because, you know, the work is just getting started.”

“That is true,” Nik says. “I’m actually surprised we haven’t heard anything from the administration, yet. I thought for sure they’d send an email out to the parents or something by now, but nothing.”

“Yeah, that is kinda weird.” Shay frowns. “Though I feel like half of us brought our parents anyway, so they already know about it.”

Nik snorts. “True.”

Kelsey asks, “Maybe they’re waiting to see what happens on Monday, or something?”

Nik says, “I bet we’re gonna have a school assembly first thing.”

“Honestly,” Shay says. “With Lee and Johnson giving us a speech on community and using that Bouldin spirit to come together in this time of strife -”

“Oh my God, stop, you sound just like them,” Kelsey laughs. 

“Well, we’ll see what happens,” Nik says. “The _ Beat _will be out tomorrow morning and then they’ll have to comment on it. Me, Grace, Poonam, a bunch of the staff are gonna be in a little bit earlier to distribute the copies. Make sure we slide it under a lot of doors.”

Kelsey nods. “I - oh, hold on I have to ask Pastor Jones something real quick!”

She scurries towards Pastor Jones, who looks like she was about to escape to the bathroom. She turns as Kelsey shouts her name, patiently smiling at her and pausing right outside of the restroom. Nik and Shay exchange a bemused look. 

“Well, that’s that, I guess,” Nik asks wryly. “Anyway. How’ve you been, otherwise?”

Shay turns to face Nik. “Uhm, good, actually. Really good.”

“Yah? That’s good,” he says. “I feel like we haven’t gotten to talk much, except at the dance. And planning the walk out, obviously.”

“Yeah,” Shay rubs the back of her neck. “Senior year so far has just been…”

He laughs. “No, I get it.”

“What about you?”

“The same old,” he says. “Newspaper stuff, applying to school, trying to just get through the week without rolling my eyes out of my head. The other day I heard Jessica Martinez say in they hallway that she wanted a mixed baby but only if it had ‘good hair.’”

Shay groans. “Oh no.”

“Yeah, and then after class she asked me out,” Nik says.

Shay almost chokes. “Stop!”

“Bible,” Nik says.

“Too bad that couldn’t go on your posted for the walk out,” Shay says.

Nik shrugs. “That would’ve been good, but I kinda think it wouldn’t have been as satisfying as seeing Mr. Bradley’s face when he saw ‘you know who your father is? That’s not common.’”

“Fuck,” Shay swears, then looks around. “Uh - fudge?”

“I’m sure Jesus is chill with a little swearing,” Nik says.

Shay laughs. “What do you think his favorite cuss word is?” 

“Oh, definitely fuck,” Nik says, trying to sound serious. “It’s so versatile, you know. And he was a great speaker so I bet he sprinkled a few in here and there. ‘This is My fucking body which is given for you; do this in remembrance of Me.’”

“Seems legit,” Shay grins. 

Nik gins back at her. “Oh - but before I forget, I wanted to tell you, I loved your song. Did you see that they were talking about it on the news?”

Shay warms. “Thanks. Also, uh, no. But Monique told me.”

Nik nods. “Which also reminds me - I wanted to tell you, you guys seem really happy. I don’t know if that’s weird for your ex to say…”

Shay laughs. “Nah, it’s not.”

“Okay, cool,” Nik says. “I’m glad. And, I don’t know her well, but seeing you guys around, it seems like a good thing.”

“Thanks,” Shay says. “It really, really is.”

+++

**Monday, November 18 9:02 AM**

When Shay walks into A.P. Gov, the first thing she spots are a few copies of the _ Bouldin Beat _on every single table, as well as one on top of Anderson’s desk. She glances over at Poonam, who is already at her seat, smiling serenely. Shay grins at her; to her surprise, Poonam winks back. She’s not very good at it, doing more of a blink, but Shay just winks back at her anyway. 

“Is Poonam okay?” she hears Kelsey’s voice behind her. “She looks like she has something in her eyes.”

Shay tries not to snort as she goes to her seat. Kelsey and Zoya are only a few steps behind her, dropping down into their chairs as well. As the classroom fills up, Shay finds herself glancing over at Francis. She’s awkwardly standing by her own table, hand hovering above one of the copies of the _ Bouldin Beat_. After a moment, she drops her bookbag on top of it haughtily, before crossing her arms and sitting down in her seat. Shay rolls her eyes and turns her focus back onto Zoya and Kelsey.

“Any clue about what’s gonna go down?” she asks them.

Kelsey shakes her head no, her ponytail rocking back and forth. “I haven’t heard anything. I was even in the teacher’s lounge earlier -”

“What?” Shay looks at her incredulously.

Kelsey shrugs. “I’m in charge of organizing some files in there this semes -”

“Girl, just get to the point,” Zoya buts in, shaking her head. 

“You seriously gotta teach me your tricks to getting around this school,” Shay mutters.

Kelsey grins at her. “Anyway, and it was totally empty. Usually there’s people grading or napping or drinking coffee, but no one. Though there were a few open copies of the _ Beat _ on the tables. Opened to the list of demands.”

“That’s… good?” Shay says uncertainty. “Maybe it means they were holding a meeting or something.”

“Which could also be bad,” Zoya points out. 

The room around them goes quiet as Mr. Anderson walks into the room. Shay looks up, taking a steadying breath as he walks towards his desk. The room feels unnaturally still, and it’s then that Shay’s nerves start to rise to the surface. She had honestly been fine coming to school and walking in the halls, but there's something so unnerving about his presence, unusually quiet, that has her a bit shaken. She glances at Zoya, whose face is stoic and still as stone. Her eyes wander to Kelsey; her skin is slightly pink, but otherwise looks steady too. Something in Shay relaxes, just a miniscule amount. 

Mr. Anderson stands facing the classroom, his hands resting on his hips. When he opens his mouth, it seems like half of the class leans forward, as if pulled by puppet strings. 

“There certainly was a lot of excitement on Friday,” he finally says. “And… it’s good to know that you’ve all been paying attention to my lectures.”

Shay feels her eyebrows go up; someone behind her lets out a small _ what the fuck_.

“As a teacher, I never know if my lessons ever truly reach you,” he continues, sounding pleased with himself. “But it’s clear that through my leadership, some of you have found your voice through civic engagement. I guess it’s not true, what they say about millenials.”

_ Millennials? _

Shay finds herself rolling her eyes, along with about half the class. A few titters of laughter sound throughout the room, just slightly louder than the murmurs of confusion and disgust. 

“Is this guy for real?” Zoya asks, voice low. “Or did he… completely miss the point of the protest?”

“Is he, like… Columbusing our walk-out?” Kelsey asks incredulously.

Mr. Anderson clears his throat. “Yes, Ms. Para?”

Shay glances towards Poonam, her hand raised straight and high in the air. 

“Mr. Anderson, isn’t you who always says to look at the context clues, and back up any claims you make with relevant primary sources?” she asks.

Shay almost chokes on her own spit as Mr. Anderson’s self-satisfied smirk flattens into a thin line.

“I - yes, Ms. Para?” 

“Then I am even more concerned with the state of our education than I was before,” Poonam says. “As you obviously don’t practice what you preach.”

Shay has to slap her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

“I think it was quite obvious we walked out because of you, but not in the self-important way you seem to think,” Poonam continues. “If I were you, I’d look a little more closely at your sources.”

This time, Shay can’t help the laughter that emerges from deep inside of her gut. Luckily, she’s not the only one laughing; the room explodes in titters as Mr. Anderson stands stiffly, his mouth open like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing.

“Ms. Para!”

It’s the only thing that slips past Mr. Anderson’s lips before the loudspeaker crackles to life. The laughter immediately dies down, Shay’s throat admittedly going a bit dry as static comes over the speaker. 

“Good morning, Bouldin,” vice principal Lee’s voice comes over the sound system. “As we all know, there was quite the… demonstration, hosted by a number of students and faculty members, this past Friday. Principal Johnson and I want to speak plainly and openly regarding the issues that have been raised through this. First, we want to thank you for your tenacity, spirit, and action. No member of our community who participated in the walk-out will receive any punitive action against them.”

“Oh thank God,” Kelsey says, seeming to slump in relief.

“Girl!” Zoya says.

“What?” Kelsey shoots back. “So sue me if I was a little worried!” 

“All of the issues raised by Bouldin students are issues that should concern anyone who is a part of our global community in 2019. These are questions that have emerged out of a specific context, and should be thoughtfully considered by everyone in our school community - and beyond,” vice principal Lee continues. 

“Damn,” Shay says. 

“With these issues brought to our full attention, we, as administrators, now understand the depth of your passions and have a special opportunity to appropriately discuss and confront these issues. I am grateful for everyone involved, and we will do our best to discuss, review, and carefully re-examine our policies in a new light.” There’s a pause. “While change may be slow-coming, we are taking these issues extremely seriously, and promise to work closely with students, faculty, and staff to make Bouldin a place where everyone can all truly thrive in a safe, educational environment.” 

“It’s a good speech,” Zoya mutters.

“We will have an all-school assembly on the matter before the semester is out, as well as send out letters to your caregivers by the end of the week discussing this matter.” There is a brief pause, before the voice comes on the line again. “Now, would Josefina Valencia, Kelsey Russell, Grace Olsen, Megan Flores, Zoya Ali, and Monique Cleaver please report to the principal’s office?”

Zoya groans, and Kelsey’s face turns bright pink. Shay winces at them in sympathy, but also can’t help herself from teasing them for a little bit. She’s not super worried for them, considering the tone of the rest of the announcement. The rest of the class breaks out into whispers, and Mr. Anderson attempts to quiet them down. 

“Oooh, you’re in trouble now,” she singsongs. 

Zoya cuts her eyes at Shay. “I’m not above throwing you under the bus. Mean Girls style.”

Shay snorts back at her, a smile playing on her lips. “Maybe it’s about your… after school activities funds.”

Zoya pauses halfway through standing up, her bag in her hands. “What does that mean?”

Shay shrugs devilishly. “Your dad doesn’t happen to do financial law, does he?”

Kelsey whips her head so quickly Shay’s surprised she doesn’t snap her neck. “Shay!”

“Kelsey!”

Zoya says, “I swear to everything I love, I’m gonna strangle Monique -” 

Shay backtracks, though she’s almost positive Zoya’s kidding. “It wasn’t her.”

“Uh huh.”

“Promise!” Shay insists. “It was Megan and Grace.”

Before either of them can say anything else, Mr. Anderson snaps at them from the front of the room, face bright red.

“Ms. Ali! Ms. Russell! I believe you were called to the -”

“Yes, Mr. Anderson,” Kelsey rolls her eyes. “And we’ll get the homework from Shay.”

“This isn’t over,” Zoya mutters to Shay.

Shay beams start her. “Blackmail not much fun, huh?”

Much to everyone else’s surprise, Zoya bursts into laughter, the sound carrying inside the room long after she and Kelsey have left the room. Shay grins down at her work packet.

+++

**Monday, November 18, 3:01 PM**

_New message from: **Kelsey Russell **_

VICTORY! 

Hey everyone!

I just wanted to send this quick blast out to let y'all know we'll be sending out an email tonight about our meeting with Johnson and Lee.

Long story short, there are some substantial changes that. are gonna be made in school, and it's all thanks to US.

Thank you to ALL OF YOU. Because it takes ALL OF US to do something like this!

+++

**Monday, November 18, 7:23 PM**

_New message from: **Monique Cleaver **_

Still can't believe we didn't just get expelled for the protest

Nah, can you imagine the press if they had?

High School Expels Students for Free Speech!

No the headlines would be more like

Model School Expels Special Snowflakes Who Hate Slurs

MONIQUE

Girl we do live in Texas

In the United States of Amerikkka

I mean

It's true and you should say it

But it's good, right?

Everything they said in the meeting to you guys

Yeah, it's good talk, but we'll see what actually happens, you know?

I think I'm worried that everything will just go away as soon as we graduate

Maybe, but maybe not

I know, just focus on the now, right?

Yeah

But also, some of those underclassmen were really serious too

I think they'll carry this shit on long after we're gone

Yeah, maybe

Anywaaaaaay

We still having lunch together tomorrow?

You know it

:) 

:)

+++

**Tuesday, November 19, 1:05 PM**

_ I'm livin' my best life, yeah, yeah _

_ I'm livin' my best life _

_ Made a couple M's, you know (Agh! Huh!) _

_ Said I'm livin' my best life _

_ Said I'm livin' my best life _

_ Made a couple M's with my best friends _

_ Turned all my L's into lessons _

_ You see the whip pullin' up, it's like "skrrt" _

_ Dreams pullin' up, I'm like "skrrt" _

_ I'm livin' my best life _

_ It's my birthday, at least that's what I'm dressed like _

“Hey, mama!”

Shay turns her head to see Jo coming up from her side with a broad smile on her face. 

Shay shifts to completely face Jo, coming out of Mrs. Mendoza’s office with a lollipop in her mouth. She lets the door gently shut behind her as Shay grins back a hello. Shay pulls her headphones off of her ears, letting them rest just on the back of her neck. 

Jo comes closer towards her, pressing their cheeks together and making a kissing noise. It makes Shay’s heart heat up in a soft, warm way; it feels like a familiar gesture, despite the fact that the only one who’s ever done that to her before had been Tyler’s female family members. Jo does it so naturally that it’s only after she pulls back that Shay thinks about how alien the gesture should be. Instead, it just feels like giving Marlon a fist bump, or hugging Megan hello. It’s as normal as breathing. 

Jo gestures towards Mrs. Mendoza’s office, blue lollipop in hand. “You gotta make sure to try out the new candy she has. Her husband brought them back from his trip to Berlin and the chocolate is amazing.”

Shay laughs. “Okay, thanks for the tip.”

"No problem."

"Hey, we missed you at lunch," Shay says, then pauses. "Damn. Can't believe I can actually say that to you."

Jo smirks. "I know, I had so much to do that I had to skip and eat lunch in the library to study. Everything has been so crazy the past few days."

"I get it, believe me." 

Jo says, “But, let me tell you now before I forget. I’m hosting a Friendsgiving at my house on Saturday, and I’d love for you to come!”

Shay blinks in surprise. “I - oh.”

“My family is gonna help me cook a ton of shit, so don’t worry about bringing anything,” Jo says. “But we’re gonna be fake fancy, so make sure you wear your suit and tie.”

“Oh,” Shay’s smile stretches across her face. “Okay, cool.” 

“I’m gonna tell Papi Ty too, but make sure Marlon knows he’s also invited,” Jo says.

“Ah…”Shay winces, the warm feeling fading slightly. “You think… him and Megan are gonna be okay for that? Like the walk-out was one thing, but...”

Jo nods. “Yeah, I know. But I think it’ll be fine. I have a really big house.”

Shay chokes on a laugh. “Right.”

“And anyway, like… I think they’re better,” Jo says. “Not friends, of course, but also not… mortal enemies or whatever. Plus, Megs already said that like, with our crews just getting tighter that they’re gonna have to figure it out, you know? Step by step.”

“I guess,” Shay says. “But it wasn’t too long ago that they were screaming at each other at a party…”

“It also wasn’t too long ago that you didn’t even know Monique, Tyler thought I was just some annoying flirt, Grace hated Daniel, and none of us even knew the other existed,” Jo says.

Shay squints. “So, what’re you saying, all they need is time?”

Jo shrugs. “As my abuela says, con el tiempo todo se consigue.”

The door to Mrs. Mendoza’s office swings open just as Shay says, “Huh?”

“It amazes me how Americans can take a language their entire educational lives and still not understand basic proverbs,” Mrs. Mendoza says, shaking her head at Shay. “Now, Shay did you plan on joining me for your advisement meeting?”

Jo salutes Mrs. Mendoza with her lollipop. “Sorry to keep her, Mrs. M. Later, Shay.”

Jo walks off down the hall, and Mrs. Mendoza steps out of the doorframe so that Shay can come into her office. She lets the door bang softly behind her, dropping her bag on the floor and moving to sit in the chair in front of the desk. Shay folds her legs underneath her as Mrs. Mendoza gets settled, her file already out in front of her. Shay looks at it, a printed version of her common application essay sitting right on top of all the other paperwork. She can feel a blush springing to her cheeks, suddenly apprehensive about what she’s written. 

“Shay,” Mrs. Mendoza says, steepling her fingers together and staring at Shay intently.

“Mrs. Mendoza?”

“You’ve finally done it,” Mrs. Mendoza grins. “Your essay is poignant, funny, and relevant. Your voice shines through as if you were reading it aloud to me. It’s, in a sense, perfect. U.T. Austin would be incredibly lucky to have you, and now they’ll know it too.”

Shay hesitantly smiles. “Really?”

“Yes, Shay, really,” Mrs. Mendoza says, then pauses. “Shay, do you know why I kept telling you to go for extracurriculars, to expand your circle?”

“Uh, to make me seem like a more competitive candidate?”

“Well - yes,” Mrs. Mendoza says. “But also because I knew you weren’t striving towards your full potential. It’s not - look, I don’t believe the whole, ‘high school is the best time of your life, going to sports games and prom matters’ thing, but there is some truth to it, in that… when you find your people, you can achieve true greatness. And seeing you just… blossom… this semester? You’ve always had good friends, of course, but now you have… a community. And I’m proud of you. It’s not easy, but… you have something special here. The walk-our was incredible, and I have a feeling it’s just the beginning for you.” 

Shay’s smile widens across her face. “Wow, thanks.”

“That, and your song has been playing all over the news networks,” Mrs. Mendoza says. “A protest song for the generation.” 

Shay almost chokes on her tongue. “I don’t know about that -”

Mrs. Mendoza waves her hand. “Listen, Shay, you think all those white kids out there are being modest about their art? No, and don’t you let anyone tell you you need to be humble about it, either.”

“I -”

“Now, I see that you’ve added a few more schools to your application,” Mrs. Mendoza says, smiling. “And we offer vouchers for those applications too, so make sure you get those into me.”

“Okay, definitely,” shay says, mind whirling from the sharp change in conversation.

“And Shay?” Mrs. Mendoza asks.

“Yeah?”

“U.T. Austin is an excellent school,” Mrs. Mendoza says. “But the reason why I pushed you so much is because I wasn’t sure it was entirely what you wanted. And in a lot of ways, this whole process is bullshit anyway, because what seventeen or eighteen year old even knows what they want? And you surely shouldn’t have to choose now what you want for the rest of your life, it’s the American capitalist and industrialized ideal of -”

Shay coughs, hoping that she’ll get to the point soon.

“Right,” Mrs. Mendoza’s lips curl into a smile. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m glad you’re making your own choices now, and not just bullshitting anymore.”

“I’m trying,” Shay says. “It’s… this whole year has been… but, yeah. I’m trying.”

“Shay, that’s all any of us are doing,” Mrs. Mendoza says. 

+++

**Thursday, November 21, 5:21 PM**

_ We got another one boy, (A-T-L) _

_ (Just throw it in the bag) _

_ What's up Brooklyn, what's up son _

_ What's up Fabo, a man, I got that black Amex wit me _

_ Aka that throw it the bag card, yeah! _

_ Now I know you ain't over there starin' at my girl _

_ Yea I know you ain't over there starin' at my girl _

_ Nigga I know you don't call yourself hollarin' at my girl _

_ I know you don't call yourself hollarin' at my girl _

_ I keep hittin' the baton, Louis Vuitton _

_ Gucci down to her feet, yup just like me _

_ I'm the one, with them ones _

_ Fuck the price on the tag _

_ Just throw it in the bag _

Shay spears her General Tso’s chicken with one chopstick and chews it off like a shish kabob. Her mother peers at her from across the sticky table top in the food court. She calmly eats her chicken sandwich from Wendy’s, balefully glancing over at Chik-fil-A every now and then. Shay tries not to laugh around the chicken in her mouth, partially to avoid a glare from her mother and partially to keep from choking. Their table is full of bags, some of them from stores in the mall and some of them from the Goodwill just a few blocks down. She’s never been too excited about clothing before, but she’s almost vibrating out of her seat at all the new thrifts that they have. 

“We just have to find somewhere to get a nice tie,” her mother says. “Or a couple of them, proper ties. I wish your father was here. He would know how to do the different knots and everything.”

Shay smiles. “I always thought you did those for him.”

Her mother snorts. “Me? No, that’s all him. The last time I tried to help him tie a tie was before we even got married. Almost ended up choking him.”

Shay laughs.

“Good thing we got the Youtube nowadays,” her mother says. 

“Why do you always do that?” Shay tries not to lugh.

Her mother gives her a surprised look. “Do what?”

“Put ‘the’ in front of everything,” shay says. “You sound like an old lady. It’s not ‘the Facebook,’ it’s not ‘the Youtube.’”

Her gaze turns unimpressed. “But you understood what I was saying anyway, didn’t you?” 

“I’m just saying,” Shay says.

“Well I’m just saying too!” her mother harrumphs. “Getting grammar lessons from my child. I remember back before you could even talk, now you trying to school me -”

“What’s that old song?” Shay snickers. “‘I see babies crying, I watch them grow, they’ll learn much more, than I’ll ever know’?”

“What a wonderful world indeed,” her mother says begrudgingly. 

Shay grins at her. “I don’t know if I need a tie, though?”

“Didn’t your friend say it was - what did she say? ‘Suit and tie’?”

“Yeah, but maybe that was like, a metaphor.”

Her mother rolls her eyes. “A metaphor? For what?”

Before she can answer, Shay hears someone calling her name. 

“Shay!” 

Shay glances up and around the food court. She finally spots Diana, almost halfway across the room, waving at her with one hand. She has a Starbucks cup in her other hand. Shay waves back at her, a smile on her face. Shay glances over at her mom, just the smallest bit of anxiety knotting into her stomach. Her mother squints slightly as she looks at Diana.

Shay rushes to say, “Ma, that’s not Monique!” 

Her mother gives her another look. “I didn’t think it was! That woman is too old for you! And I can see her hair!” 

“I - okay,” Shay says as Diana stops by their table.

“Hello!” she says, a wide smile on her face. “Mind if we share?”

Diana places her tray down before waiting for an answer. Shay and her mom scramble to move some of their bags off of the seats and table so that Diana can sit down. Before Shay can make introductions, Diana reaches her hand across the table and shakes her mother’s hand enthusiastically. 

“Mrs. Dixon, it’s such a pleasure to meet you,” Diana says. “I’m Diana, Diana Tran.”

“Hello,” Shay’s mother says, looking surprisingly composed. “Please, call me Donna.”

“Yes, Ms. Donna,” Diana says automatically. 

Her mother smiles. “Nice to meet you, Diana.”

“Ma, Diana lives next door to Marlon,” Shay says. “And she’s friends with this girl I go to school with, uhm, her cousin. She… looks out for us a lot. Remember I showed you the Know Your Rights cards?”

Her mother’s smile brightens. “Oh!”

“I’m sure you know this, but I think Shay is just great,” Diana says. “I think of her like my little cousin. A bunch of us do.”

“That’s nice,” her mother says genuinely. “You know, I worry about her sometimes, out in the world. Some people’s intentions, you know.”

“I get it,” Diana says. “When I was her age, I -”

“She’s sitting right here,” Shay says loudly.

Diana says, “Excuse me, grown folks is talking.”

Diana and her mother look at one another and then start laughing hysterically. Shay groans, poking at her Chinese foods and thinking this was a very, very bad idea indeed. She stares at them both, briefly wishing for the time where she would’ve been terrified for them to be meeting in a completely different context. She scoops some fried rice into her mouth.

“So what brought you two here?” Diana says. “It looks like y’all did a lot of shopping.”

Shay’s mom hesitates for a moment, looking at Diana and then glancing over at Shay. “We… are just getting Shay some new clothes, you know. For… college.”

“Ma’s helping me be a little butch,” Shay says bluntly as she chews. 

“Shay!” her mother says. 

Shay enjoys the horrified look on her mother’s face. “Ma, it’s not a dirty word, it’s okay.”

Her mother closes her eyes briefly. “I mean - look, I’m - honey, I’m sorry, I know your generation is all about reclaiming things, but I have to draw the line at you calling yourself something so - so sexist.”

“Huh?”

Diana’s eyebrows furrow and then her face relaxes like she’s just realized something. Shay hears the gently humor in her voice when she starts to speak.

“Ms. Donna, she said ‘butch,’” Diana enunciates clearly. “Not ‘bitch.’”

Shay laughs so hard she sprays chewed-up rice across the table.

“Shayla Krystal!” her mother says, clearly embarrassed.

“Sorry,” shay cackles, reaching for some napkins. 

“I’m sorry,” her mother says directly to Diana. “I misheard. Of course, butch isn’t a dirty word, it’s a - a good, strong word, and I’m proud of Shay for… for finding a label that fits her.”

Diana smiles back at her. “Happens to me all the time.”

Shay snorts, and Diana turns to give her a look. “Be nice to your mother.”

“I am!” 

“Nice to see some young people still have respect for their elders,” her mother says, a slight tinge of humor in her voice.

“First Diana’s old, now she’s young?” Shay shoots back. “Hello?”

“Anyway,” her mother says loudly to Diana, “yes, we’re here to… get clothes that are more… Shay’s style.” 

“That’s awesome,” Diana says. “I wish my mom had done that when I was younger. It’s nice to see.”

“Lord knows, I’m trying,” her mother says.

Diana beams. “Honestly, that’s all it takes.”

Her mother inhales softly and suddenly, and for a moment, Shay thinks she sees her mom’s eyes water. Shay immediately starts to get up, worried that her mom has a sudden episode coming on. But then her mother blinks and smiles gratefully at Diana. Shay furrows her eyebrows a bit, looking from her mother to Diana, and wondering if there’s something a bit more happening between them than she’s noticed. 

“I… really like your sweater,” her mother says. “It’s very flattering.”

“Thank you,” Diana beams. “I actually got it from J.C. Penny. Seventy percent off.”

“No!”

“Yeah,” Diana says. “I was able to get it on sale and on top of that use a coupon, plus it had this little hole in the back, so it was even more discounted but I was able to just sew it up -”

“God, please, if we have to talk about shopping I will throw myself off this chair,” Shay groans.

Her mother rolls her eyes. “No need for dramatics, Shay.”

“Honestly, I wonder where I get it from?”

“And what about you?” her mother asks Diana, ignoring Shay. “Starting some holiday shopping?”

Diana shakes her head no. “I’m actually here with my parents - they’re around here somewhere - but I needed a quick coffee break.”

“Oh,” her mother says.

Diana explains, “They’re visiting for Thanksgiving, but hosting on top of school and work can be super tiring. I don’t think I’ve gotten more than four hours of sleep in the past week. You know, sometimes just the stress keeps me up.”

“You know, I know something that might help for that,” her mother says. “There’s this essential oil that I use to help me relax, usually in the bathtub -”

“Oh, really?” Diana asks. “That’d be great. I love baths to just relax -”

Shay scoops some more food into her mouth, only half listening as they keep talking about Himalayan salt rocks or whatever, when her phone goes off. She digs into her pocket, smiling down at the screen when she sees that it’s Monique. 

_ Bring your bathing suit to Friendsgiving! _

The text has her furrowing her brows, and she quickly asks, _ Jo has a swimming pool? _

_ Something like that _, is her answering response. 

_ I don’t actually have a bathing suit. _

_ Girl, aren’t you at the mall with your mom? Pick something up. Duh. _

_ And tell her what? My girlfriend wants us to audition for the Polar Bear Club? _

_ Can you just dooooooo itttttttttttttt instead of arguing _

_ And what do I get out of it? _

_ Don’t you wanna see me in my bathing suit? ;) _

Shay takes a sharp inhale, considering it, and grins down at her phone. 

“I - oh, there they are!” Diana says.

Shay slips her phone back into her pocket to see Diana waving at an older couple that are walking towards their table. Shay peers at them with interest, one of them a Black woman and the other an Asian man, both of them wearing matching fuzzy blue sweaters with turkeys on the front. As they come even closer to the table, smiles on their face, Shay thinks she sees Diana’s mouth on her face and Diana’s cheekbones on his.

“Where’s your sweater, Diana?” Shay asks sweetly.

“It shrunk in the wash, Shay,” Diana says back, just as sweetly.

They grin at each other as her parents come around, and it reminds her of how she and Marlon and Tyler smile at each other when they’re being little shits. As Diana’s parents introduce themselves and settle into their seats at the table, Shay notices the way her mother seems to relax just slightly, maybe not even conscious that she’s doing it. She observes her for a little bit, noticing how open and friendly and even a little relieved that she seems. It’s not that she seemed uncomfortable before, Shay thinks, but now she just seems… more comfortable. Shay watches as Diana’s mother gently places her hand over her mother’s, both of them smiling at each other like they’re old friends. The moment only lasts for a moment, but for some reason, it makes Shay have to swallow past a lump in her throat. There’s something about seeing the two Black mothers together, here, with her and Diana…

Shay’s not sure what it is, but it feels good. 

“We’ve heard such lovely things about Shay,” Diana’s mother says.

“I’m glad to hear it,” her mother says. “And I’m glad that she has someone like Diana looking out for her.” 

Shay meets Diana’s eyes across the table, and they both grin at each other. 

+++

**Saturday, November 23, 6:09 PM**

_ I just wanna thank God _

_ For all the pretty women he let into my life _

_ All the Benjamins he let me count _

_ Wealth and health, for my family _

_ And lettin' me ball on these niggas _

Shay stands in the doorway between Jo’s kitchen and her living room, peering out into the different spaces. 

Grace, Megan, Kelsey, Jo, and Zoya are all laughing around the coffee table in the living room, a pack of Uno cards between them as they play. Shay watches as Daniel Williamson walks by the game, bending over to drop a kiss on the top of Grace’s head before he goes back to his seat on the couch, talking with Nik and that Jordan Diaz guy. Poonam stands with Eve, Diana, Jamie and a bunch of their friends, talking about flowers-as-vaginas paintings. 

In the kitchen, Tyler, Marlon, and Monique are hanging out by the sink, drinks in their hands and talking about some guy that asked Tyler out in the locker room. Closer towards the kitchen table, Abby, Lana, Peyton, and a bunch of the Kittens are laughing and having apple cider. Shay catches Abby’s eye, who smiles at her briefly before flipping her hair over her shoulder and going back to her conversation. Shay snorts, taking a small moment to herself and wondering, probably not for the last time, how exactly she got where she is. 

Not that she minds, of course. 

_ Now it's a lot of bad bitches in the building (Ooh, Amen) _

_ A couple real niggas in the building (Amen) _

_ I'm finna kill niggas in the building (Amen) _

_ I tell the waiter fifty bottles and she tell me say when _

_ And I say church (Preach) _

_ We make it light up like a church (Preach) _

_ She wanna fuck and I say church (Preach) _

_ Do Liv on Sunday like a church (Ahh, Preach) _

“I just feel like he was taking desperate to the next level,” Tyler’s saying. “It also was just super fucking weird. Asking me out in the locker room? I thought he was gonna nut punch me or something.” 

“But what did he say, exactly?” Monique asks.

“He said, ‘I know this is really weird but you’re really cute and I haven’t had sex in a really, really long time, so if you’re down, here’s my number,’” Tyler says. 

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Marlon says. “I mean, the locker room is… really weird…”

“Yeah, but then he dropped his towel and went to go shower,” Tyler says. “And I saw everything.”

Monique grimaces. “Yikes.”

“Maybe it’s one of those things where he just like, spotted you from across the gym and was like, overcome with wanting to know you,” Marlon says. “Love at first sight, or whatever.” 

“‘Overcome at wanting to know me’? What are you, a writer for those like, Victorian erotic novels?” Tyler snorts. “He was thinking with his dick.” 

Monique says, “you mean his ‘quivering member.’”

“Hey,” Shay says, coming into the conversation. “That’s from something.”

“Sure is.” 

Monique leans over to kiss her on the lips, something soft but a bit lingering. Monique’s not wearing any lipstick today, just bright blue eyeliner that matches her hijab, so her lips feel even softer than usual. Shay pulls back first, grinning down at her Coke. 

“I bet he knew he was being extra desperate, and thought it could work for him,” Monique says.

“Why would he do that?” Tyler asks, sounding more confused than sarcastic. 

“It’s something that my friend Hassan,” Monique explains. “Last year, he was really into this one girl in our English class, but she just wouldn’t give him the time of day. So his cousin told him to just like - put all his cards on the table and just confess that he was in love with her and like, beg her to just go out with him. That it might work cause she’d pity him, or something.”

“No shit,” Tyler says.

“That’s… creepy,” Marlon says.

Monique nods. “Yeah, we all thought so. Though it was fucking hilarious to see him beg this girl to have sex with him and then see her throw an ornament at his head.”

“An ornament?”

Monique laughs. “Yeah, it was at one of those Christmas pop-up shops.”

Shay snorts, and downs the rest of her Coke. “You know, it sounds almost as desperate as inviting someone over and pretending to be able to get them booze but just smoking them up…”

Monique’s eyes widen than narrow, a grin spreading across her face. “What are you saying?”

“Oooooh,” Tyler teases. “I love a good cat fight.”

Shay laughs in Monique’s face. “Come on, I think I know Asia well enough now to know she definitely wouldn't have bought me like, vodka or whatever.”

“I never promised you vodka,” Monique insists. “I said Smirnoff Ice!”

Marlon snorts. “Shay? Drink Smirnoff Ice?”

Monique laughs. “It wasn’t for her, it was for that dumb homecoming meeting, way back when. She was supposed to bring drinks, and -”

“Wait a minute,” Marlon says slowly, a sly grin spreading across his face. “That same night that we were supposed to have band practice?”

Tyler folds his arms over his chest, grinning evilly at Shay. “Yeah, the one where you never showed up, and then said… what was it? That you had a thing with your mom…?”

Shay says loudly, “Oh, look at that! I’m all outta Coke. I better go get more!” 

She twists and quickly walks to the sliding glass doors that lead to the backyard, Monique’s laughter and Tyler’s and Marlon’s shouts of protests following her out. She glances over her shoulder, sticking her tongue out at them before stepping out onto the porch. She closes the glass doors behind her, a chuckle emerging from deep inside her body. She stands there for a moment, just taking a deep breath and staring out into the dark sky. 

She tosses her soda can into the recycling bin that’s up against the house, before walking over to the enormous cooler that’s sitting just a few feet away. Bending down, she rolls up the sleeves of her button-down and suit jacket. She begins to dig into the ice, looking for another Coke that isn’t diet. She hears the doors slide open behind her, and glances back to see Zoya coming outside.

“Hey,” Shay says, smiling up at her.

Zoya grins back, coming over towards the cooler. “Hey.”

“What are you looking for?” Shay asks. 

Zoya shakes her head. “Nothing, just needed some fresh air. Someone sprayed way too much Axe on themselves before coming over.”

“Gross,” Shay says. “I can’t believe guys still even use Axe. Even if I wasn’t a lesbian, seriously, I’d be repulsed by that shit.”

Zoya laughs. “You’re telling me, girl.” 

Zoya’s phone goes off and she glances at it briefly, before rolling her eyes and sticking it back into the sparkly, black purse hanging off of one shoulder. She lets out a low, aggravated sigh before shifting to one foot, holding her body a little stiffly. Shay pauses in her search for a Coke to tilt her head and look at Zoya.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

Zoya nods tightly. “Yup.”

“I guess that explains why you’re back to your regular sunshine self?” Shay asks, raising her eyebrows before going back to the cooler.

Zoya lets out a long-suffering sigh, saying nothing for a few moments. Shay finds a Coke towards the bottom of the cooler, pulling it out past all of the ice and other cans. She pops the lid of the cooler closed again, then turns to sit on it, looking back at Zoya. She wipes the can onto her pants to dry it off a bit. Zoya stares back at her, lips pursed slightly.

“Ugh, fine,” she says finally. “I swear, you and Monique belong together. You’re both the same kind of annoying.”

“I literally didn’t say a word,” Shay says, opening the can with a long, loud _ hiss_.

“Monique suggested I invite… you know,” Zoya says begrudgingly.

“Your friends?” Shay asks.

“Yeah. All of them, including my brother,” Zoya says. 

“Okay?”

Zoya rolls her eyes. “And she doesn’t get why it’s an issue.”

Shay blinks at her for a few minutes. “Uh. To be honest, I don’t either…?”

“I knew no one would understand,” Zoya sucks her teeth. “You know what, forget it.”

Before she can turn to go back instead, Shay gets up, reaching out to touch Zoya’s hand gently. Zoya turns fully back to Shay, sighing. Shay gazes back at her, noticing some of the tired lines around her eyes and the sharp, downturn of her mouth. It reminds Shay of being back in the car with her and Monique, for bowling night. It gives Shay the same feeling that she had when Zoya refused to talk about not inviting the girls from school. It also reminds her of the resigned slope of Lala’s shoulders on the porch and emptying soda cans with Monique.

_ That’s Zoya. Queen of compartmentalizing. _

“Ah,” Shay says. “Oh.”

“Ah? Oh?”

Shay lets her hand drop from Zoya’s gently. “Is it like… you’ve… had to… keep some thing, like, secret in order to keep yourself safe? And it’s like, even if you love someone, sometimes you... you’re scared about how much you can trust them or not?”

Zoya glances away. “Something like that.”

Shay glances just past her to see Monique doubled over, laughing as soda seems to be streaming out of Marlon’s nose. Tyler has his phone out, snapping pictures with the flash on, his head almost thrown bag in laughter. 

“Can I give you some advice?” Shay asks, dragging her eyes back to Zoya’s face. “Real advice, no bullshit?”

Zoya’s eyes meet hers again.

“Sometimes… it works out better than you think,” Shay says. “And… the fear that kept you down wasn’t keeping you safe. It was… keeping you from being your true self.” 

Zoya doesn’t say anything. Shay reaches for her hand again, squeezing it gently. She feels marginally like she’s not fucking this up when Zoya curls her hand around hers tightly. 

“Zoya, you’re like… one of the most badass people I know,” Shay says. “And one of the nicest. The funniest. The most loyal. And I think… the world’s not gonna end if your worlds collide. You know?”

Zoya raises an eyebrow. “You think I’m nice?”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” Shay says, a smile spreading on her face.

“Alright,” Zoya says after a minute, exhaling slowly. “Maybe…”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe next bowling night,” she says begrudgingly. 

“Baby steps are good,” Shay says.

Zoya groans. “And I thought just having you around was bad enough.”

“Hey!” Shay pulls her hand out of Zoya’s to wag her finger in her face. “You’re the one who pulled me into all of this, anyway. You were like… the fucking catalyst for me and Mo even meeting.”

“I did not, y’all two managed to do that all on your own.” 

“Nah, it was all you,” Shay grins at her. “Since you blackmailed us both into being on homecoming committee.” 

“Shut up,” Zoya starts to grin back at her.

“Nope,” Shay says. “We both have you to blame.”

“Thank is more like it,” Zoya says.

Shay squeezes her hand again. “Thank is more like it.”

_ Todo aquel que piense que la vida es desigual, _

_ tiene que saber que no es asi, _

_ que la vida es una hermosura, hay que vivirla. _

_ Todo aquel que piense que esta solo y que esta mal, _

_ tiene que saber que no es asi, _

_ que en la vida no hay nadie solo, siempre hay alguien. _

_ Ay, no ha que llorar, que la vida es un carnaval, _

_ es mas bello vivir cantando. _

_ Oh, oh, oh, Ay, no hay que llorar, _

_ que la vida es un carnaval _

_ y las penas se van cantando _

“You’re not usually the wallflower,” Shay says, dropping down onto the couch next to Megan. “Couchflower?”

Megan grins at her, wiping her sweaty hair out of her face. Shay shimmies out of her suit jacket, leaving it in a damp pile on the cushion next to her. The living room is completely dark, except for a number of colorful twinkle lights hanging up around the walls and over the windows. She has to lean in to talk to Megan, the salsa music blasting so hard that she’s sure it’s shaking the very foundation of the house. All of the living room furniture had been pushed towards the edge of the room or out into the kitchen, clearing the way for a makeshift dance floor. 

“Even I need a break from the dancing,” Megan says.

They’re so close that their thighs are pressed against one another, Megan’s hair tickling her cheek. Shay looks over at Megan’s sweaty face and they grin at each other. Shay turns her face slightly to stare out at all of their friends, tearing it up on the carpet. There are too many other pairs on the floor to even count, really; Tyler and Jo, Daniel and Grace, Abby and Marlon, Poonam and Kelsey… it’s a tangle of arms, legs, and hair. But her eyes manage to latch onto Monique anyway, as if she’s the only clear spot in the entire room. She and Zoya do a complicated twist together, Zoya clearly leading the pair, before twirling Monique into a circle. 

“You ever thought we’d be get here?” Megan asks her, dark eyes bright.

Shay’s not sure how to answer that right away. “If I did, I thought it’d take a long, long time.”

“Yeah,” Megan laughs. “Yeah, me too.”

“Isn’t it weird, how you can go from hanging out all the time, to just saying ‘hi’ in the halls, or go from someone being a complete stranger to them being someone you can’t even imagine your life without?” Shay asks.

“It is weird,” Megan agrees. “But… isn’t that how life is?”

“I think that’s something I’m always gonna be trying to figure out,” Shay laughs. 

Megan says, “You and every other person on the planet.” 

“Probably,” Shay says. 

“But… I’m glad that we’re here,” Megan says, grinning at her. “You, me, all of us. Whatever’s happening, however it happened, you know? Like… life, right now.”

“Yeah,” Shay says. “Me too.”

Grace shimmies over, one of her hands still holding onto Daniel’s tightly. He does a two step next to her, which Shay thinks is possible the whitest thing that she’s ever seen anyone do when trying to dance. Grace beams directly at her, holding out her other hand towards Shay. Daniel kisses Grace on the cheek before dropping her hand, holding his arms out towards Megan. Out of the two of them, Grace is definitely the better dancer, Shay thinks, gladly reaching out towards Grace’s hand. 

Grace pulls her up and they dance backwards into the crowd. She loses sight of Megan in the process, landing somewhere between Grace and Jo as they all dance together. Tyler is to her right and he reaches out to spin her, pushing her back towards the outer rim of the crowd. She only stops when she feels a familiar arm loop around her waist. She looks up to see Monique smiling down at her, their bodies swaying to the melody like they were made to do it together. 

_ Yo, ayo tonight is the night that I'ma get twisted _

_ Myx Moscato and vodka, I'ma mix it _

_ Roll that spaceship, we about to get lifted _

_ Live in the present, that gift is for the gifted _

_ This what you came, this what you came for _

_ You get what you buy, this what you paid for _

_ So make sure the stars is what you aim for _

_ Make mistakes though _

She more feels than hears Monique’s next words, her mouth landing somewhere near her ear. 

“You wanna get out of here?” 

Shay kisses her, mouthing the word _ yes _ against her lips. 

_ I never worry, life is a journey _

_ I just wanna enjoy the ride _

_ What is the hurry? It's pretty early _

_ It's okay, we'll take our time _

_ The night is still young _

_ The night is still young _

_ The night is still young _

_ And so are we _

Shay can feel the roughness edges of the rocks beneath her feet, some of them pointing into the rough skin of her soles. Beside her, Monique is grinning, her face shining in the moonlight and the stars. Despite her claims that she was taking Shay somewhere quiet, there seems to be a party going on in the quarry below them. A slew of cars, one of them blasting music, all have their headlights on and pointed towards the deep water. Shay peers down at the decently sized group of people all screaming, laughing and splashing each other in the shallow ends of the water. She knows that Sekou, Zainab, Hassan, Reggie, and Lala are down there already, and had actively watched them jump from the very point she’s standing on now. She stares down at it dubiously, part of her wanting the thrill of actually doing this shit, but a larger part of her scared about hitting a rock and like, busting her head open on the way down. 

“This is literally…”

“Awesome as shit?” Monique asks, besides her. 

Shay looks over at Monique in her burkini, trying not to feel her face warm at how it seems to outline all of Monique’s curves. She looks down at her own board shorts and surfing top, a grin forming.

“Actually, I was gonna say this is literally white people shit,” Shay says. “Cliff jumping? In the middle of winter? In the dark?”

“Come on,” Monique laughs. “Have I ever led you astray?”

Shay peeks back over the edge again. “There’s a first time for everything.” 

“It’s perfectly safe,” Monique insists. “You just watched like, ten people do it.” 

Are you trying to peer pressure me?” Shay asks.

“Is it working?”

“No, because I never change my mind about anything,” Shay teases.

“Oh yeah?” Monique grins back at her.

“Yeah,” Shay says. “And my momma didn’t raise me to be jumping off some rocks in the middle of winter.”

Monique snorts, gently knocking the top of her head into Shay’s. 

“We can stand here all night, or we can do it now,” Monique says.

Shay sighs. “Fine, if you’re gonna make me…”

Monique laughs at her in response. 

"Just trust me," she says. "It's not that far to the bottom."

Shay takes a deep breath. "Okay."

And just like that, she knows that it will be okay. She reaches for her hand, brown fingers tangling together. 

Then, as if they're one person, they leap.

+++

**Sunday, November 24, 12:04 AM  
**

_New message from:_ **_**Monique Cleaver**_**

I checked WebMD and I think I have frostbite

You're such a baby 

No you don't

Oh yeah?

Well tell me why I can't feel my toes!

Because you have poor circulation?

RUDE

It's because my so-called loving girlfriend dragged me into FREEZING WATER in the MIDDLE OF WINTER

Winter technically doesn't start til December

Still counts!

Why don't I come over later today and warm them up for you?

I'd love that

Though my mom will probably make us save room for Jesus

What??????

You never heard that saying

Like at a school dance

In middle school, Mar and I were dancing too close or something

And our teacher came out and told us to separate a bit

"Save room for Jesus you two!" 

Oh is that what you learn as a Christian????

Yeah

Abstinence

No

That Jesus was into polyamory

Make sure you bring that up to my mom

I'm sure she's gonna love hearing that

I'm just saying didn't he hang out with like 12 dudes...

Is it blasphemous if it's not your religion

Jesus is kinda important to us too so I think it's still blasphemy

Well

At least my toes will be warm in hell

That right there is definitely a y'all thing 

Just saying

Can't wait for you and my mom to meet and debate this

Doesn't she still thinking I'm a Jehovah's Witness though?

ENOUGH

Never :) 

Do you plan to torture me with this for the rest of my life?

Oh, definitely

Better get used to it

<3

<3 

+++


End file.
